I like to think I might lie dying in the East Wing of the hospital. And that I will then remember the trees outside in the Garden. I walk through those trees each morning, feeling their mystery. They reach up into the endless dimensions of Something More. They are a grounding gift to walk by each day on my way to the inflexible, predictable sub-routines of my computers.
Beside them the walls of the Rah strangely seem to offer entry to the same More. The rows of windows could almost be eyes into infinity. Is it fanciful sentimentality to think that I might lie dying up there, and remember the trees? Or are the windows, clad in their opaque film, some symbol of my clouded eyes longing to see more?
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