Lay me down in fields of undiscovery,
A land with no master but the purpose of serving all,
To be adorned by idyllic shades of all.
Oh, mothering Earth!
A man not angry but energetically in tune with the injustice of influence.
For without power, there can be no real judgment.
The struggle of a world of pretenders, unwilling to step into the light and unwilling to accept their shadow.
Bury me deep in the cold, loamy earth,
For my being will be fully absolved into the hands of the creator.
To be recast again as a dictator of self, and not of others.
To bring others with a governance of self,
So as not to overindulge in what is meant for all.
I break bread of my own making with you, my brother. Thank you for your warm, engaging company.