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THE FINAL ELEGY





Let me arise from this grim vision of pellucid flesh;

Give ear to the jubilation of ever ascending angels;

Let the hammer of my heart strike its final blow.



Let my tears of departure flower after this sad duration

And let the dark green of my life’s meaning continue

Into the wintry hardy foliage of future yuletides.



Transformation has always been our urgent commission

And even the earth wants to ascend into invisibility;

The most sacred of thoughts is always intimate death.



Death is the most intimate as we are shorn of all pretenses

Gathered up in life and stand naked in our own perusal

Of our prologue to epilogue measured by the light



Look, we live nevertheless, not as a recoding nor as a

Footnote but we live because spirit was ever alive and

No elegy need be given; it is for the forms of life we elegize.



Neither our childhood nor our wizened old age grows less;

Overabundant being wells up in my heart and the final

Elegy is for the thought that death ever held dominion.