Heaven and Earthworms

I have given many a thought to what happens when we die, specifically, what happens to our bodies. You have the option to be classically buried, cremated, donated to science. I think I don't want to be cremated, kept in a jar or the specks of my former self thrown across water. I think I don't want to donate myself to science, lying on a cold metal slab for years. I think I don't even want to be buried, at least not traditionally, set in a wooden or metal box marked by a plain slab of stone. I want to be buried in the forest, no casket, no headstone. Mark my resting place by flowers, wrap my body in leaves and let me melt into the ground, decaying alongside bones of animals forgotten, let birdsong be my funeral organ, let the willows do the weeping, let the toadstools and earthworms feast themselves on my corpse. And let it be that my soul does not rise to heaven above nor to hell below, rather seeps into the soil, into the seeds and moss, allows the remnants of my earthly form to grow into beauty once again.