When you are old,
But not so
old that your memories begin to scatter,
You are just
old,
Old enough
so that the bucket lists don’t matter.
When your
duties are done,
Not so well
that people can’t go on.
You have
done your work,
Just well
enough that people aren’t glad you are gone.
When you
have loved someone,
Not so hard
that death enforces a cycle of rebirths,
You have been
loved,
Just enough that
there was some sanity, some mirth.
Most
importantly, you are tired…too tired,
And numb,
and deep within you feel no fire,
That is the
right time to leave your body,
And have
someone add the flames to your pyre.
