When I am laid to rest—
Where I go doesn’t matter.
It’s where I’ve been—that kept me up.
Will I be remembered at my passing?
Did I give meaning to life?
Did I create laughter?
Did the fragrance of flowers fill my senses—
and not just the room of mourning?
Did the hurts I caused—
find healing?
Did I hear the answers to these questions—
Or was it late.
Will someone ask—why?
will they know—
what my answer might have been?
Were my eyes—
filled with wonderment?
Will they know life’s quota—
was less than I desired?
That life was insufficient—
to quench my thirst.
If not—the fault was mine.
In the end—
it needs to be known,
I did not wish to go!
I only longed to stay!
Do not be saddened—
It’s a testament to you—
that I wished to stay.
