When I die, let me be a rock.
Unstained by any tint of compassion;
unmoved by sorrow or joy;
lashed by wind and rain;
whipped inward, ever inward
into the silence of a million years of inhumanity,
till life itself fades into oblivion:
a streaming cloud,
far distant thunder.
Though I dream, no song shall I sing;
though cleft in two,
no cry shall pass my lips.
Such a rock I wish to be.