Verse 88
We keep the House of Endings at the edge of the city where celebrants do not have to pass it by accident.
We keep the House of Endings at the edge of the city where celebrants do not have to pass it by accident.
Here we wash the dead and speak plainly.
No one says they have gone to a better place unless they had supplied an address.
We say: this life ended.
We say: we loved them.
We say: we do not know.
Our emblem is Saturn because every feast becomes a memory and every memory thins.
This does not make the feast worthless.
It makes attendance urgent.
A demon once came asking whether death was sacred.
I told him death was common.
He asked whether that was the same thing.
I said no, and neither is it an insult.
We burn old letters each winter, not because the past is evil, but because storage is finite.
We keep one object from each beloved until keeping hurts more than releasing.
Then we give it away.
The novice fears this custom.
The elder fears the room where nothing has been released.
Decay is not moral failure.
Rot has fed more gardens than purity ever did.
Place the body in earth, flame, sea, or whatever the dead requested.
Then feed the living.
Grief does not betray the teaching.
Grief is what love weighs after the body is gone.
Carry what you can.
Set down what you cannot.
Do not make a throne from the ashes.
When your own hour comes, leave the door unlocked.