Gone

A poem on dying and moving on, changing yet remembering.

When I die, and they lay me in that box
There will be weeping in the pews
I hope you save a tear for me
That only I will see

When they send my body down
For flames to lick this vacant shell
I hope you feel consumed by me
As only you can feel

When you spend that lonely night
The first, when I am gone
I hope you hear my whispering
It's time to go on. Go on.

So you'll throw me, scattered awry
Where I shall leave my message on the breeze
and kiss your soul goodbye
I'll kiss you whole. Goodbye.