if i were never to come back, do not be weary, but move
on, for i’ll be where Lumos isn’t cast, where no hint of yellow
bursts forth through the inky black, and it might be too soon;
if you were to mourn me instead, dissolve into water like a
thin sheet of paper, my victory will have come to none, and i,
my love, if i were to watch upon you, withering away with the
autumn leaves, dry and crackled, waiting to be crushed, i
would suffer a second death;

if i should never return, i say if i should never return –
you, my dearest, the key that unlocked the heart that had long
dried in that hidden closet, curdled by the fear of the silver moon;
you, with your vibrant hair, your many faces yet one face, your
tenderness, your strength, your laughter, your madness, you!
you will live on, carry on, thrive on with our son, and for sure,
for certain, in my dark repose, there will be some light, some comfort.