The Song of Achilles

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. 

And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. 

When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him. 

You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.