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!