The Way I Would Like to Die by R. E. G. Armattoe

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The Way I Would Like to Die

R. E. G. Armattoe

This is the way I'd like to go, If you must know.

I would like to go while still young, 

While the dew is wet on the grass; 

To perish in a great air crash, 

With a silver 'plane burning bright 

Like a flashing star in the night; 

While the huge wreckage all ablaze, 

Shines brightly for my last embrace 

I'd like to see the flames consume 

Each nerve and bone and hair and nail, 

Till of dust naught but ash remains. 

Or as stone, swiftly sink unseen. 

But if I should hear someone wail, 

Because dust has gone back to dust, 

Mad with fury, I shall return 

To smite the poor wretch on the head. 

So, let me go when I am young, 

And the dew is still on the fern, 

With a silver 'plane burning bright, 

Like a flashing star in the night.

Mother, do not grieve when I'm gone! 

This is my wish; I'd have it so. 

This mere burden of flesh was I, 

Whom you loved and tended dearly 

But you, my love, where'er you be, 

Remember these warm lips of mine 

That poured their youthful passion out, 

These wide eyes that mirrored my soul 

And beheld wonders in your eyes; 

This mind that godlike stood alone, 

The head that lay in your gentle lap, 

The very hand that held this pen, 

The heart that daring reached the height 

The all of me that gave you joy, 

Cleansed now of all impurities

By the red all-devouring flames, 

Will though dust, remain, believe me, 

Part of th'eternal Mind of God.