I wish for no man-made thing to mark my grave,
Just as I wish for my body
To be laid to rest
And placed somewhere with nothing left
But a single flower
To give this mind company.

There is kindness found in company
Outside of wishing to not be lonely in the grave,
Like company found through gifting a flower
That might decorate the hair or the body
And is thought of even when the day has left,
Leaving you to fall into a dreamless rest.

There are acquaintances best kept silent, a rest
In the music. For this is private company,
Shadowed company, that is best left
Lest one falls into the grave
of an unmarked body
With no thought given or acknowledgement of a flower.

Then there is company which grows as a wild flower,
Perennial, continues spreading and does not rest
Until it encompasses the body,
For there is no better company
That one might find to embrace in their grave
Than one that loves you even when there is nothing left.

But for those who have no presence left,
For those who live flower to flower,
For those who have no love to keep them warm in the grave,
We are the ones left to rest
And listen to those who believe company
Can be easily found if we would simply leave our body

Of thoughts, as if we do not already wish to leave our own body.
When instead we are left
Behind in the unpleasant company
Of someone who joys in ripping the petals from a flower,
Or think exhaustion is no excuse for rest,
Who do not believe in the ritual beauty of being placed in the grave.

So please, when you bury this bloodied body, this decaying flower,
When I am wrapped in muslin and left in a field to rest
In the company of my creator, do it slowly, so I might admire my grave.