The Thirst of Socrates

The dirge of a thousand sorrows
And one last toast I make
Absurdity in its finite wisdom
Has marked a claim on me
I cringed from the bray of the masses
Whose feeble minds fear the truth
What choice of virtue would you heed,
When I am no longer?
I may converse with Orpheus and Homer,
Or sleep in the depth of nothingness
For either would be welcome
For I fear not my final journey
You bestow the banality of my sentence
Is your existence more glorious than my crossing?
I have found goodness in the heavens
And happily I journey onward
My mortal coil may be silenced
But ideas will live through time
Tell, to what god shall I toast for guidance?
So I prosper from this world to the next
As my hour of departure has arrived
Freedom calls my spirit nigh
For the cup you've laid before me
Shall quench my thirst for evermore