My friend,you need no words,no poems,no tomes,to be immortal.You are so, by right:by Mind conceived direct and indestructible,by Soul imaged forth unique and wonderful,by Love poured forth all warm and radiant as endless day,by Life beamed forth in one gleaming ray.

No, it is I who need them,words precise and clear.The Word, the truth of God, revealsa vision of that more definite spherethan meandering contemplationof past's bright-colored memories turned to shadow's hue,than fruitless speculationand questions grief cannot construe.

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