A veil shrouds the pale face
that hasn't seen the world in a millennium,
thin bones eaten away by the maggots of time
eroding, decaying, then gone

Winds carry the silk and it billows the rest of the way westward,
a dog trotting away from a sorry master,
exposing flaws chiseled into its features
rivers of wrinkles betraying an apology that she had been too weak to reveal on her own
its banks flooding, the clear dew of repentance seeping down her cheeks

She lay still against the foundation from which she had been born
offering herself up to the stable earth,
which gave her permission to die