When morning breaks
into the room
to tear you from sleep,
do not mourn
the night's passing.

Let waking divide
this day in which you walk
from the past
which already is less
than whisper, fainter
than a breath's caress.

Let the day begin
without prejudice, clean
of grief or gladness.

What lies before you is all
the potential you need.
All you will ever have.

With one stroke you end the cosmos
of a life. Gather your poems
from the carcass.

Remember you are dying.
That your absence is also poetry.

Make space with your words
so those who come after
may hear their own voices
in your silence, deepening.