Scatter my dust and ashes, feed me to the wind
So that I may be part of all you see, the air you are breathing
I'll be part of the curlew's cry and the soaring hawk,
The blue milkwort and the sundew hung with diamonds
I'll be riding the gentle breeze as it blows through your hair
Reminding you how we shared in the joy of living.
Ewan MacColl.
This is the final verse of 'The Joy of Living' - written for his wife, Peggy, presumably when he knew that death was near.
Beautiful words and a profoundly beautiful song. I adore it right up until the point when it drifts into fantasy.
I would lay odds that this has been used in many a funeral. I can barely contain my sadness at the thought.
Ersatz spirituality.
