(Note: I am helping LilEnigma judge this challenge, so my entry isn't eligible to win but I couldn't resist entering)

Like the Father, Son and Holy Ghost

the Maiden, Mother, and Crone,

and Birth, Life and Death,

my END will pour threefold

On the first day:

Lie me on a simple slat of wood,

in a room fragranced

by the smoke of Nag Champa

and draped with cloths of purple, blue, and red,

surrounded by fixtures of mixed metal and stone.

There are roses on the walls, one laid on

every seat, and petals spread across the floor

with a sprinkling of tobacco for Legba's quiet guidance.

Prayer candles for Mother Mary, Parvati, and Oshun

must crackle quietly on every open surface.

Cover me with mint, as deemed by Aphrodite,

and place a crown of thornless

Joseph's Coat roses atop my head.

In the background, plays a soundtrack

of delta blues, soulful jazz,

psychedelic rock, ethereal prog-metal,

haunting southern gothic guitar

and the occasional hymn, starting

with Hear My Train A' Comin'

woven with The Parting Glass,

Come Away With Me and

Box Up My Bones, then finished

with Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

Each guest has their choice of mantra or

verse from whatever belief seems

to meet the moment, and must speak it

into my listening ear or tuck the written words

between the roses atop my head.

There will be no speakers, no public declarations

of mourning, reflections of death will be

our secret, sacred bond.

Everyone will leave the viewing with a stone

from my personal collection; may it bring

them luck and snowballing peace.

Dress yourself in clothes that allude

to our favorite memories; as casually or

formally as you please.

On the second day:

A day of silence, of meditation and reflection

in nature--garden, sea, or quiet wood--

and poetry or prose must be written

about whatever comes to mind.

Psychoactive spirit journeys are not required,

but highly recommended.

Collect pieces of the earth in my memory,

but keep them for yourselves on your altars,

your mantles, your ofrendas and your hearts.

And while my loved ones mourn

in the temple of Mother Nature and Father Time,

grace me with fire, burn me with all the flowers

from my service and the holy texts

that frame my skull.

And finally, the third day:

Make a mandala of ash, bone, and

vibrant sand, a careful, colorful

arrangement to remind us of quiet infinity,

of the ebb and flow of the cosmic tide.

Then gently sweep my ashes and sand

and pour them into beads of glass,

one each for my children, one each

for the loves I leave behind, and finally,

one for the Earth, intended to be buried

with the Mother who cradled

me for a century near--

--for I am from the dust

and to dust I shall return.