FINITE TAILORED

In my dream I saw a bone-cracking Golgotha-Death. The frozen, deep-throated earth was gaping. In my life I had scarcely been honoured, and now the wintry sky paid me with fossilized pearls. Tears were flowing on my hands. All were staggering in mute stupor, Chaplin figures of the underworld still standing - the tidy grey heap of my ashes was blown by the stray wind, while my late ghost fluttered disembodied among them. My soul was still wounded, but free, disembodied, like ripe fruit. Believed or not they who wrote my former name above, My soul, eagerly obstinate to not-give itself, trembled but for the literature that fell, And the active diodes of my foaming and foolishly crawling brain I scattered in my manuscripts as messages. 

A pearl-bright little angel, trembling, clutched immortal Dearest, - who once, with ever-loyal devotion in his heart, Held me in caracan, now, showing his grief, and yet, as a token of noble dignity, Gave back to Mother Earth the rich-productive half of himself. A piece of her beating, dear heart-her jewel-destroyed with me. Many comforted him, and urged him, but he heard no more: he listened to my every pleading, sincere word, when the open whirlwind silence took me in. 

Dear! I know it will be hard for you now, but you must live for yourself, and that the blessed fruit of our love may after twenty years be sure to understand Our moral sacrifice for nobler thoughts, and all that was not in vain! And the dear child's tiny little heart beat up and up, while her mother clasped close the wise memories of the saving All...