When I die the bell shan’t toll, instead only distant whispers will wisp

and for thee it will be like any other day that I am dead.

 

When I die no one will speak of loss, nor will the air twist with empty platitudes

and the absence of absence shall echo that I am dead.

 

When I die I will desire no more, for all my hopes will be met

and with the lack of desire the abyss proclaims that I am dead.

 

When I die my fear dies with me, the error of terror of endless sleep

and the depths of despair won’t mind that I am dead.

 

When I die no one will bury and sift, smiling at albums faded photographs

and tales remiss of days before knowing that I am dead.

 

When I die I will wonder no more, of he who has died and he who has lied

and I will remember that he is me and forget that I am dead.

 

When I die my memories will fade, lost to the cascade of eternity

and the silhouette of faded memory will prove that I am dead.

 

When I die the bell shan’t toll, there will be no ascension no reverie or rebuke or rapturous call

and all the faith in the world could not change that I am dead.