Posted by Ann Lee on Thursday, November 10, 2016


“Am I just going to die?”
I cried, lying on the hospital bed.
The old lady beside me,
smiled and said:

The sun died for the moon,
to give light through the dark;
The snow died for the spring,
to make the flowers bloom in the park.

Don’t be afraid of death,
because it isn’t the end;
For death means a new start,
however, out of our hand.