“Oh God, help me believe the truth about myself, no matter how wonderful it is.”
~ Macrina Wiederkehr
What happens when we die?
When I am gone, my body burnt, my ashes spread asunder,
A little here, a little there, I cannot help but wonder
If, down the years, that drifting DNA that once was Dozy
Might end up on your dinner plate and make you much more nosy;
And should, perchance, your friends decide you're prone to useless chatter:
Don't worry, just blame Dozy's genes, and say it doesn't matter.