On the end

I'd like to think, when I die
the rivers would fill
from tears that flow
the sun would sit in permanent darkness
beneath the moon and the underworld—
I'd float through the sky,
as a ghost
a spirit
an eternity
and cast my eyes
on the trees, that struggle to find their footing
from the land that became barren
from the animals that followed me—
I'd like to think, when I die
I'd be more than a memory
a photo
or thought
anecdote, but—
a thing that had left
a lasting impression
some knowledge
or feeling
of what life meant to me