Death is Nothing At All

by Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all

I have only slipped away into the next room;

I am I and you are you —

Whatever we were to each other,

That we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name;

Speak to me in the easy way

Which you always used,

Put no difference in your tone,

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow,

Laugh as we always laughed

At the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Let my name be ever the household word

That it always was.

Let it be spoken with effect

Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was.

There is unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind

Because I am out of sight.

I am waiting for you, for an interval,

Somewhere near, just around the corner.

All is well!

 

I found this poem in The Psychic Adventures of Derek Acorah,by Derek Acorah. I thought it was worthy of a read for all of you. It is indicative of what all we ghost hunters are attempting to understand, that everyone eventually slips just to the other side of the veil from where we dwell now.

Tj