Bury me,
On a quiet,
hidden hilltop,

Bury me,
At the roots of a thick cherry blossom tree,
It’s species closer to extinction yet,

Bury me,
Surrounded by autumns metamorphosis,
In the mist of a sunset,

Bury me,
Where nature dices the ground into messy,
Unfair portions,
And a crowded forest clashes with the fields below,

Bury me,
Where my name will no longer serve a legacy,
And my corpse will rot without an audience,

Bury me,
In a shallow grave,
Where no church bells can be heard,

Bury me,
Where the bitter fragrance of the sea salt can be smelled,
And the old fisherman’s stories echo through acres of midnight,

Bury me,
At the peak of Scotland’s emptiness,
With your own two hands,
Brother,

Bury me,
With a smile