If I must die, then let me die
Soaring upward toward the sky;
And at the zenith of my flight,
Cross from darkness into light.
If I must go, then let me go
In the gentle hush of falling snow,
Kissed by winter's subtle chill,
Becoming silence, soft and still.
If I must pass, then let me pass
In a field of whispering grass,
When harvest time has just begun,
And fade into the golden sun.
If I must end, then let me end
With my face turned toward the wild wind,
Asleep in the arms of the lonely sea;
And so let me enter eternity.
