When this temple which serves my soul
Has served its purpose and the whole
Of it no longer manifest life
And is freed from worldly strife
Then do not place it beneath the ground
Or prepare for it some earthly mound.
Rather take my physical form and over a fire
Let the very last of it expire;
Cremate this thing which housed my ego,
Let the smoke rise and join the winds that blow.
Burn, burn the fire until the fire is dead
And then when the oven has cooled instead
Of placing in some urn what last remain
Let the wide sea be its domain.
No stone must ever mark the place
No one must ever find a trace
Of the body that they once called me--
The thing that lived to serve humanity.
Let the water be the final home;
Let the dust in the waters roam
Until it settles in the bottom of the sea--
This thing they ones called me;
Then in time my soul once more
Shall be clothed again as it was before.