When I depart the realm
of the terrestrial,
for the splendour of the celestial,
do not bury my remains in the
valley of the kings,
for robbers would move my
bones in search of gold rings.
I detest sharing the glory of
the blue-bloods with them
in death.
But I would like my molded
clay buried in the worm
infested earth,
where it would nourish both
worm and field,
and help moisture give life
to mother earth's withered
yield.