Shall I praise Bacchus, Dissolve myself in an aged vintage. I ought to splash my mouth, In the lethe's grace. Paint my face and forget How I lived and how I said, But I shall not forget, The pen in my hand. I shall take it To my deathbed. I shall be buried In the deep coolness of earth, With my pen clutched In my pale hand. The oozing hemlock From my lips shall Be wiped with my paper. I shall die with no memory But of the ink stained hand. -Palak Solanki (Lavender Daisy)