Tell me, Departed

Dear Departed,
I envy your wisdom,
your unheeding eyes
glaring stark oblivion.
What deemed you so worthy?

They say, dead men tell no tales.
No, they tell a thousand tales,
knitting their own truths-
truths construed, truths contemplated
but truths uncertain.

Tell me, O’ Departed
Is it true, what Sir Simon said?
Is the truth so simple
that your eyes teared when you died?
Is death so peaceful?
Wouldn’t you come and tempt me?

Just once.