When I die

When I die, and die I shall,

There won't be a funeral attended

By hundreds or dozens or even

A handful, there will be

No wake, no weeping, 

No sobbing, rueful mourners

Sharing memories of a

Wonderful man or life 

Or the weather.

When I die, there will be 

No headstone to

Recall forgotten pasts, nor

Smooth, slick granite nor plaque.

And if I am to be blessed my

Body shall lie where it fell

In the forest, devoured by

Beast and by bug to, eventually,

Return to the Great Mycellium.

When I die, people will not

Remember the books unwritten, the

Bonds not made the community

Never able to be formed upon a life

Riven raw by that silent solitary,

Barely here before long gone,

The shade of a scudding cloud

On a moonlit night

Briefly dimming the dampened floor

Before moving on, a shiver, 

A trembling at a passing.

When I die, my name will fall silent,

As were it never spoke,

No song sung for deeds not done

No story told, no reminisce,

Neither favour nor fortune, fame nor

Fall rather that long quiet

Sigh of the night wind soft

Blowing low across the land

Neither noted nor notable.

When I die, it will not be a moment

To remember, or forget, but an

Augenblick in a long sweep of

Moments, and I shall return 

Whence I came 

And this world shall 

Continue whither it goes.