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The only noble way to go is to be pious the sun will rise to others still. The first dawn without you will be different, and it will not look as beautiful is it once would for the ones who spent every beat of their hearts beside you, but every star in the sky will still pace under the same universal orders of life; even them will be gone someday.
You will die, but will open the way to many others that shall have a chance to write their own stories alongside yours— whether yours has been written with ink and quill or with blood and blade.

Understand, please, that those who fear death cannot love life, for life is not entrapped only within one being who perceives it; those who love life can understand that life is but a wandering cloud in the sky.

As you approach the gates of your soul, humbly yet bravely step forth, and embrace change with the passion you have once shown in life. Do you remember? Do you remember when you have let go of the very first cries as you have been born here, within us? There is no shame in your forgetfulness… besides, we all are here with broken memories, we all life in a maze of times past.

As you close your eyes now, all will be seen once again, and as you sigh sweetly in your bed, the gentle wings of the angel of death will ruffle over your covers. He will smile to you, ever so lovingly, and you will smile back with your soul ready to leave. Shed the tears, for every drop of them shall thoroughly carry the burdens away from your heart. Don't regret leaving, for those who will mourn you will someday meet this same relief you now can savor.

I will take care of their hearts, as I have taken care of yours, despite of how lowly you have treated me. I know that in your last thoughts there were many candles lit in my name, and I feel warm again, sheltered in the comfort of your tender care.

I love you. I never left you, but now—it is time for you to leave me in this world, and no other being will cry as much as I will. But as even the stars I have lit throughout the entire universe may one day weaken and fade, Gods can also believe in this same fate… My sorrow will never end, although, for I love every soul in this land, and silently I watch as they pray.  Although they rarely glance at me through their lives, they pray to me so dearly in their last breaths.

It is so sad they only talk to me when they are close to die…
You may have asked where I was as you lived through all your pains in life. I was buried under the sadness of knowing myself eternal, as eternal as my love for you, but having vowed to let life be a precious shrine, free from my hands—true love, my son, is a silent and frail flower amidst an immense desert.

It is neither overt nor colossal to the eyes as the sands and rocks surrounding it endlessly, but its beauty and purity are unique, in its tiny and frail body the sensitivity and warmth I can only describe as a tightening hand embracing my heart. It urges me to cry every moment I remind myself of what are the truly precious things in this life.
Love is not invasive, and I would hate myself (yes, I can hate) to my eternity if I ever tried to force you to find me; I yearn to be found…

This little flower is smiling as you take it back home, as you take care of it with the tenderness of your feelings for it. There is nothing more precious in this life and beyond to know you are loved, and this is indeed all we are looking for, all we want to remember.
I cry still, lost in colossal feelings for you; you left me on earth to return to my heart. Welcome home, though all I wish is to set you free once again…