The 49th death.
[By Vipul Khosla]
Footsteps on water
Treading this world as if walking on water,
Leaving no footsteps behind,
Sometimes the earth, sometimes the fire,
He was water sometimes, sometimes the rocks,
Splashing sometimes and flowing at others.
Embroiled in passion, wasted in love,
Kissed by the moving clouds, seduced by the dew,
Intoxicated with life, sobered by beauty,
In the city of dead living, to be.
Death, so brave,
Nothing to lose or fear,
Lived the moment, alive here.
This artist of promiscuous imagination,
For with him, the debauchery of guilt laid to rest,
Not for who he was but because he was.
Now in infinity; unheard, unseen, unspoken; still loved.
Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit at firstname.lastname@example.org.