I Am No More

Think of me not, nor listen for my sigh upon the breeze.
Shed no tears; throw off the shroud of guilt, if memory fails
and the features that you loved escape recall.
Kneel not, to keen, arranging blooms upon the plot;
where you fancy, that I lie in blissful peace and something of
the essence, that was me, remains.

For though I lived and loved the life and love we shared;
I am no more, nor will I be again. So do not let the shard,
That frenzied, slices jagged, at the beating breast - where I
Did live and may do still – hold siege and force defeat upon a
wounded foe. For this assailant is no nameless rogue
but moves from heart to breaking heart and is called grief.

Do not cower in shame, if a passion, that you thought extinct,
should surface like ‘Excalibur’. Or if you dream of other hands
upon the hilt of scabbard-seeking swords; which the knights
demand! No jealous tears will flow in my own ‘Avalon’.
For, who better, knows the spells that nature casts, on mortal flesh
and not even Merlin’s power could subdue.

Do not live to die; or die to live, allowing time to pass,
with morbid sulk. Or mourn what could have been but never will.
What is; is now! What was; was then! What will; will be!
Do you think that it will aid my painless rest, to know it burdens
all I leave behind? You knew me more than I did know myself!
And knowing this, you need no further map; the way ahead is clear!