Last Regards

My life, once written in steel,

Now crumbles like limestone

As I stand before Death.

My soul, once condemned by Fate,

Now flutters like an injured bird

As I stand before the Lady (1).

Perhaps the French are not all wrong,

As they claim Her (1) to be a worldly cure

To all illness, weakness, and impurity.

I know now that my life in its entirety,

Once so bleak,

Can be redeemed in this single action.

I stand in Her (1) shadow,

But as I think of you, my soul sings

And my heart glows.

I know now that this is what

I was born to do, as I await rest

Upon the arrival of Her (1) cold embrace.

My purpose, my raison d’etre (2),

Is to sacrifice my life

To preserve your happiness.

For you are filled with life,

And what is life

Without joy?

Last regards,
Sydney Carton

(1) The Guillotine

(2) French for “reason to be”, or “reason for existence”.