.
Go forth…
          Into the deep sleep.

Swaddled in the shroud
marked with the words
you’d let fall,
not from loose lips
but the determined grip
of calloused fingers -
that had danced (with purpose)
on parchment,
to the unsung verses
set to inspire minds
and tempt stagnant tongues.

Go now…
          Before the rest of us.

And as we raise our hands
in gestured farewell,
our eyes would tear,
and our hearts would bleed
into the wake of your sojourn.

.