Summer fading, winter comes – autumn excised from our story. Show them only the vigor of day and the solemnity of night. Of dawn and dusk, growth and decay, greening and bronzing, stretching and withering of mind and flesh speak not.
She reads in earnest upon our tomb. Shape our story. Let her see only our truest self. Depict the prime of life and the honor of death to instruct the spring and obscure the fall.
Remember us, as we wish it.