Oh, wrap me round in Celtic linen

Oh, wrap me round
in Celtic linen when I go
to show the fire called
the emerald and red of
my poetic pagan heart
and burn me through
in ancient embers at the
altar of all thought

Entomb me
in Egyptian cotton for my
soul as old as time before
Time was and sound my
extant vapour into every
sphere across the universe
entire of the Gods

Shroud me in a needle Lace
of threefold beauty, earthed
among the silken places,
bound into the Mystery by
spaces where I found a truth
and graces I have yet to birth

Consume me on the breezes
of an open pyre. Let the blood
and dust to dirt and constant
part into the cosmic ether be
subsumed that in my end shall
I reflect and then begin again,
next time, a little higher.

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