When these feet fail

one last time,

and all my practice

turns perfect,

I'll see the face

in the soil

celebrating persistence

achieved. Within

the grasp of death,

those worm fingers rise

and pull me down

into the sea, crusted earth

of dirt and strangers.

I will watch from above.

You think I'm dead

but I am not

my spirit

floats above you

caressing you

with sprays of roses

don’t weep for me

for I am here

held aloft by clouds

in their soft hands

ignited by sun rays

to remember passion

cooled by showers

bathing my soul

and watching you

awaiting your arrival

joining me

before I depart

lingering sky

craving you

to complete

our journey

together.

When my heart gives away and my spirit leaves,

I grant you permission to lay my limp body wherever you please.

Lay me among the dead,

Or maybe some place sweet,

where you can see the sunset.

You can disintegrate me in a fire,

Or freeze the remnant of me in a statue, so all can admire.

Whatever you do to the remainder of me,

should be only to your preference.

Because when I'm dead, I'm dead.

I'm already gone to heaven.

It begins with nativity ascending a fluid dawn. Irradiating footsteps carrying brilliance. A dominant germination of spirit staggered. Wanderlust glitters with existential stones marked. Post-pubescent expansion tilts celestial balance. Then succession ensues, sequential maturation plays. Blossoming senescence, a crescent bathed in vinegar grace. Expiration marinating, soul collapses into peace. White petals dispersing--harmoniously, yet bitter. Melancholy fragrance to blood abandoned. Finally entombed, capsula swaddles to sleep. Ritualistic burial parting roots accompanied, by choice. In the final crescendo the Earth is sealed. And reincarnated with my history comes anew fertilized dawn.

After all

The torment ends,

I shall be solely,

Without a sharer.

I shall lack

All human needs

Yet, I shall have

All that is needful!

A mirror

Before my eyes,

And a handful

Of recollections.

A pair of eyes

To behold

My face;

A faculty of mind

To remember.

And in that day

I shall conclude

That I held

No regrets.

That I have caused

No harm to others

Neither hurt

My dear own self.

That no words

Were left unsaid;

And no what ifs

Without a test.

That when I looked

At my reflection

I felt nothing

But content,

For I have

Not only

Taken breaths,

But I have raged

Against life's threats.

'Round 

and 'round 

the world I go

In search of something

I don't know.

Where my failing eyes did land?

Upstream,

to where it all began.

Take me where the squitos bite

and where he lay me down

at night.

The heart knows well where

it must go.

Just as the salmon and their roe.

Come hither & yon, young heart of mine, come rest and rest where you belong.

I want to lie down

In a bed.

Not my bed at home,

Wherever home may be.

Not a hospital bed,

God, no.

Not really a bed of

Flower petals either.

A bed made of

Clouds and music

And the color gold.

I want to be anesthetized

By the beauty of the world

And by the beauty I haven't yet seen.

I want to be hypnotized

To remember my past life

My current life

And my future too.

I want to lie myself down

In a garden not of flowers

On a path made not of stone

Near a fountain not of water

With unflying butterflies

Resting with me

In this Not-Eden.

I won't remember anything by then

But I hope I remember

My last moments-

My not-last moments-

Fondly.

Goodnight.

I lie in a bed that is not my own.

I'm cold and weak and numb and alone. 

My eyes are closed with heavy lids.

While I dream of things I think did.

I want to remember something but its fading.

was there someone who needed saving?

I begin to pull away and my eyes free open 

and what I see I know I haven't woken

There lies my body battered and broken

My face a canvas whose past it's woven 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Dust dances with the rock, dirt, and mulch of the earth. Earth shifts, moves evolves. Where will I end it up? My head head may sink beneathe the layers into a sea of lava. My thighs may be pushed to the surface and grow into grass. Grass that is crushed by the splendors of innocent children, or by the footsteps of murderous adults. My chest that you'st to breathe, beat and flow is traveling down a stream into the ocean. My bodily nutrients may aid the growth of a great oak or sit lifelessy under the city streets. Where will I go? I do not know. My body is not my own in death.