My grandfather just passed away, and I was down in Melacca for quite a long time...
Here's a poem for him...
Death
They say life is like a candle lit,
It goes out at the slightest wind.
But I think that’s not true a bit,
Even after the flame has dimmed.
I believe the fire never goes out,
After death has come about.
Instead it goes to another place,
To forever burn and be at peace.
It goes to the place that rain can’t touch,
The place where winds don’t matter much,
A place so high up in the sky,
A place where only angels fly.
After death, we do not die,
Because up there in darkened sky,
A candle flame becomes star-bright,
It’ll shine forever an immortal light.
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