babyblue31
New Member
I want you to be happy when I'm gone.
When you mourn me, make your mourning bright,
Adjusting what you long for to the light.
Nor need you love the less what has passed on.
The art of memory is celebration,
Yearning that turns sorrow into song,
Opening a heart forever young
Upon the unmade bed of its creation.
Then celebrate my life, and also death,
On which I, like a mendicant, depend,
Begging that my suffering might end
Even as I fight for every breath.
Hold onto me with unresentful tears,
A testament to what we've learned of love,
Pleased again to move as your heart moves,
Partaking with no loss in passion of
Years as rich and full as were our years
When you mourn me, make your mourning bright,
Adjusting what you long for to the light.
Nor need you love the less what has passed on.
The art of memory is celebration,
Yearning that turns sorrow into song,
Opening a heart forever young
Upon the unmade bed of its creation.
Then celebrate my life, and also death,
On which I, like a mendicant, depend,
Begging that my suffering might end
Even as I fight for every breath.
Hold onto me with unresentful tears,
A testament to what we've learned of love,
Pleased again to move as your heart moves,
Partaking with no loss in passion of
Years as rich and full as were our years