Bury me under a lightning rod,
in a copper casket
filled with brine
from the dead sea.
That's my only wish.
Turritopsis nutricula can stay,
if she can
handle all the salt
in my electric repose.
Place sand, not earth
on the top of me.
That I can swim out
through fulgurites and
wrest the air again
into my cured lungs.
"You can in fact,
danse if you want to." - me(4)
Don't touch my head
if I appear to be dead
because when I wake,
I may make the mistake
of collecting your hand.
You'll need those,
in theory and fact.
Just save your tears
I'm covered in salt.
Ceux qui ont apparié notre vie à un songe ont eu de la raison...Nous veillons dormants et veillants dormons. -Montaigne
Intro
O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
Beside this desk, at dead of night,
Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
Freely, some mountain height sublime,
Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
My spirit, in thy healing dew!
Goethe: Faust I.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Electromagnetics and Danse Macabre
Labels:
celebration,
funerary,
poem,
wish
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