Monday, December 22, 2014

Unknown I may croak

If I be the first of us to perish,.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered possessions of my journey, 
The minutes shared, the anonymities explored,
The sturdy layering of intimacy kept,
The things that made us giggle or weep or sing,
The silent philological of guise and dash,
The knowing

These are not flowers that fade,
For even pebble cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty crag peaks in time reduce to sand.

Be still.
Close my eyes.
Listen to my last heartbeat.

i am ready to meet my maker.