Perhaps whatever final shadow that
the shining day may bring could close my eyes,
and this my soul may well be set aflight
by time responding to its longing sighs;
but it will not, there on the farther shore
its memory leave behind, where once it burned:
my flame the icy current yet can swim,
and so severe a law can surely spurn.
Soul by no less than a god confined,
veins that such a blazing fire have fueled,
marrow to its glorious flames consigned:
the body will abandon, not its woes;
will soon be ash, but ash that is aware;
dust will be, but dust whose love still grows.