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When my grandchild asked where I would be when I died, this poem was my reply. 

You, stars, and the firefly's tail, 

all are specks of primordial dust, 

primordial flints in the hearts of stones, 

primordial fog in cosmic dawns. 

If I return to life in the stars, 

find comfort in the breath of trees, 

see my tears flowing in the rain, 

that will be my immortality, 

only a change of residence.