A Romantic Explanation of Death

I've heard a romantic explanation of death: It's simply stepping out of time, Returning to the universe's primal molecules and atoms, Reconstructing into the things around you. The tree that shelters you from the storm is him, The sweater that shields you from the cold is him, The trinket on your desk when you're weary is him, The evening breeze that meets you on your walk is still him. He's no longer here as your family, Yet he disperses everywhere, ever-present. Sometimes I feel that when a loved one departs, It's like you're going to school, And he's off to the market; You're home for a meal, And he's working in the fields. When you go to find him in the fields, He's already back home. In truth, he's never left, He's just passed by you in every moment of this life.