NO MORE, NO LESS

 

TIME TO CLOSE MY EYES NOW,

SPIRITUAL VEGETABLE THAT I AM.

TIME TO HOST SOME WILTING,

CUDDLE UP WITH A LITTLE ENTROPY

AND BREATHE A LITTLE LIFE,

INTO DYING,

SLOWLY TURNING MY BACK

FOR JUST A MOMENT,

ON ALL THAT MENACING MEANING.

I WANT TO LINGER FOR JUST A BIT,

IMAGINING THE PITCHER FULL OF MY EMPTINESS,

SPILLING INTO THAT BASIN OF NOTHINGNESS.

LOOKING AROUND,

TWO QUESTIONS ARISE:

WHAT WILL BE THE LAST THING THAT I SEE

AND IS THERE ANYONE WHO WOULD WANT IT

TO BE THEM?

 

IN THE MIDST

OF MY ENVISIONED  REMOVAL,

IT’S HARD TO NOT BE DISTRACTED

BY BREATHING.

I CAN SEE HOW A GOOD DEATH

REQUIRES IT’S ABSENCE,

THE WHIRRING AT THE NOSTRILS.

THE WIND WITHIN ME

TRYING TO KEEP THE EMBERS OF MY WORLD

FROM GOING OUT.

A CONFLICTED BELLOWS

THAT SIMPLY CAN’T MAKE UP IT’S MIND,

HAS NO PLACE 

IN THIS PREVIEW

OF COMING DELETION.

 

BUT NOW,

BACK TO THE END,

OF WHAT BEGAN,

AS CONSCIOUS CARBON

THAT MORPHED INTO THE ODDNESS

OF ME.

 

IT’S QUIETER NOW.

A FRESH LONELINESS ARRIVES.

THE FINISHING TOUCHES AT HAND.

I HAVE BECOME THE ASH

OF A MIDNIGHT SNOWFALL,

SETTLING ON THE STONE BUDDHA,

WITHOUT A DOUBT.

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