Three days, six feet under, nine or ten regrets.

Why wasn't I cremated? Oh, but for a charring, releasing, flash point for the Phoenix-rising of my Spirit! This - the heavy weight of damp, erratically troden, dank, smothering dirt; pressing, opressing, soul snuffing soil - this is how you dispose of me?

Why didn't you know me better? Didn't I make you listen to the heart of me, the why of me, the how I feel and function - me? I let myself down, by not sharing enough of me to make you care to understand.

If I never gave enough for you to learn me, then in no way did I touch or learn or value your soul; certainly I never looked hard enough. Why did I choose to let you down?

How can I go on; lift this, my dirt sodden spirit, with so much left unknown, undone, unsolved; unresolved. Why didn't I think ahead?

Where do I look for answers, when I'm stuck - tethered to this incarnation. How long will it take, until flesh dissolves, earth dries, and I can dissipate? Without release there is no transcending. Without growth, there are ties. Why didn't I cut the ties, let lessons be learned, and release?

I wish I'd made a plan; tied up loose ends of this life. Wish I'd finished learning little lessons to free up time and space and spirit and hope for learning bigger, soul-freeing ones. I regret not choising hope. I regret letting you down and never being enough.

I regret regrets.