Your star is dying, and preparations are already; Eulogies will be powerful, then good-bye. There are regrets, and you keep them to yourself, There are those you did not want to disappoint. Celebrations will have in them their double meaning, And may the weight of eternity be lighter Than the burdens of your celebrity fame.
The journey to fame became a mystery, And with the mystery came a faith, So that your famed life couldn’t be nihilistic, or in vain. (For thou shall love thyself And others will love you in return For being thyself is good).
On your star dying, what you murmur at the last In your mind, or as a spoken word, Matters little in the face of your celebrity death. In this penultima all defences dissolve; When you draw your final celebrity breath, What has driven you has come to pass.
On your dying star, you’ve little time to select From your long list of crack achievements, The ones you desire for remembrance. Your polar personalities will reincarnate And your ego will disperse, Carrying the genes of Valentino and others; You are now free to say it is so, For this is who you thought you were.