May you all have a hundred nights of human grievances, but never a single blink lost of demonic faults.
May you say I spoke not always wisely, but ever with integrity of spirit.
May you say I judged harshly, but judged myself the very harshest of all creation.
May you all weep for my faults, but have my merits in your mind.
May you all remember me with ambivalence, but bless me with your customary fullness and purity of heart.
May you give me half the Divvil’s vestments for my funeral, but all the mercy God’s abundance ever hath supplied, for my endless journey home.
May you remember me not as an angel or a divvil, but a frail and fearful creature of clay, perched precariously between infinite ease of dawn below and immeasurable doom and terror-nights above.
May you all love me not too well, but wisely.
Scatter not of the greatest of your riches upon my grave; but cast a penny upon the waters, when your heart is sore and ease shall flee from thee.
Remember me not as the greatest of hearts, but as one, perhaps, among the stoutest.
For I also have loved you in your imperfections.
And in doing so, I have embraced mine one around me.
Remember my weakness, and I shall intercede for you as well, at that last great dreaded Throne of Doom.
I shall not forget a single one of you, when I am finally called to give account for what you have bestowed upon me, out of the endless, heartsome pleasure of your beauty.
…
Where two or three are one, then one shall ere long plead for many.
Image attribution:
By Andrew Crouthamel (Self-published work by Andrew Crouthamel) [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons
