(From The Gashlycrumb Tinies of Edward Gorey, 1963.)
If you decide this day not to end your life with your own hands,
then speak bountiful words of tears, wiping them away all the same
by becoming all things to all people
by living into all of your selfs.
(They take residence in your commodious soul–
never let them see you hold anything back.)
Then, burn until the sliver of lights sneaks above the mountains.
Tomorrow, you will decide anew, but for today, live, you fool.