And Must It Die With You…?

And must the magical world die with you, 
where the memory keeps 
the purest breaths of life, 
the white shadow of love first,
the voice that went to your heart, 
the hand that you wanted to hold in dreams, 
and all the loves
that reached the soul, to the deep sky?
And must your world die with you, 
the old life in order yours and new?
Do the anvils and crucibles of your soul 
work for the dust and for the wind?