Sing no dirges when I'm gone
loss isn't how I've lived my life
so do anything but grieve
for passing won't result in strife.

Think of me, if you're inclined,
and picture me when in my prime
long before the years began to bind
and built up on me like rusty rime.

Or next time you are in a wood
close your eyes and listen close
to how the forest doesn't brood.
I'll be near where some small stream flows.

So when I'm gone throw a party
and share the many things I'd done.
Let it be the last sharing of Me
just as my next phase has begun.