When I die

What is seeded accedes to another

Interned unseen beneath a cedar

Like a seed in cerecloth

Take me far from evil and bury me

I have in the loam grim merriment

Let burrowing worms enter me in the great below

Making citadels of useless bone, I am a thing stown

Pick a place without stone and dig there a hole of fate

In soil caul me, let numberless dirt be my mortuary drape

Cover me over whole and plant cowslip

Leave me to be leached to heighten reaches

Let me bring richness as I could never in life

Let none be witness to my demise, give no rites

No solemnity or sighs, only coins upon my eyes

Seeing me safely to the Styx’s lifeless side

Let none sight my scything, my reel’s unwinding

Remember me vital and smiling, a viking

In temper, not as a member of the dead in the place of rats

Emperor only of some sand-hid ziggurat, in a corpseful manse

Remember me as a man with plans, and not a phantom

Remember not the damage, the napalm of me

But my charms, and how well I managed

All things considered

All that from me lifted, I am delivered.

When I die, I hope not soon

Many dreams yet enwombed

I would stay my sojourn in my tomb

To confine myself to another room

It is not gloom or maudlin lunacy

Sooth I know not why I think death often.

Alchemisland