The road we travel on

Many think it’s wrong, it seems, to talk at all of death.
Birth is looked on joyously, both are marked by breath.
The first gasp of an infant child, the last breath of the dying;
Both of them are nothing more than natures loving sighing.
To each a start, to each an end, so let there be no tears,
The chains of life are freed by death, along with doubts and fears.
So we who have life can touch with love, the lives of those we meet,
Leaving the souls who have travelled on to sit at the master’s feet.
For who are we to speculate, that death will not transcend?
The fear we have of nothingness; that death must be the end.
So do not think of darkness, when you grieve for those who’ve gone;
They’re just a little step ahead the road we travel on.