Poet’s Dying Wish-THE LAST WILL: Crispulo Tappa

Poet's Dying Wish

THE LAST WILL

Grant me this; If I should die

Burn my dead body on a pyre

Let me be a burnt offering

To the merciful Holy King

Let my argentine ashes

Lay in the highest promontory

Let it float like a free spirit

When the cold wind blows

Where I can see animals

Running wild by the glades

I dread being dead; in a box

In this unholy ground. Caged

In darkness and dampness,

Too rich a gift for the maggots

Set my soulless soul free

Fly in the sky; a white dove.

Bring me no wreaths nor flowers

But seeds that can grow wild

So when I morphe, a new life;

A butterfly; I can freely fly

Pollinate their lovely flowers,

Pray that they may bear fruit.

If you must cry; cry, do cry

A river and as it vaporizes

It will rain and be the water

That flows into the river

Where death and destiny

Shall meet like old lovers

My death is a true liberation

From the many pains of life

A glorious new life begins

Just pure joy; no more tears.

This... this will be the last; at last

Requiem for my unholy soul

No funeral dirge; no elegies;

No long winding ceremonies

Render me a pauper's burial

That is all that it should ever be.

This I must say and pray;

Forgive this old dying poet

He has run out of rhymes

His brain aged; atrophied

Read his obtuse poems

Keep them in your hearts

May this last trove of wisdom

Be his last will and testament.

Crispulo Tappa©️

2023