When I knock off, do what you want with me as long as it’s this:
Burn me up in an incinerator until there’s nothing left but dust. Let me go up in flames, and don’t think about whether my soul went with the bones etc. because while you’re living you don’t need to worry about it and when you’re dead you won’t care. And I won’t care, so why should you worry? Then take the dust and use the weight of it to anchor party balloons, and to keep the floods out. When you want to know whether the wind will be at your back on the way in or the way out, hold a palmful in front of you to see how it moves me. Mix a few grains into the sandbox and build a castle out of me, because I’ve always wanted to be that for you. If you build that fire pit you wanted, set my once-guts beside it and use them to still the blazes after nights that drag on. Leave me outside and let the rain soak me into mud, then run me like a mask over your face to smooth the skin there.
Melt me into glass and look right through me.