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I laid my body on the tall grass.
She wrapped me in a rustle of green.
I closed my eyes in the shadow of a tall pine,
curling up so the pain wouldn’t spill beyond my heart.

Consciousness sinks into nothingness.
I feel the particles of my “self”
breaking into a million molecules.
I flow through the grass and seep into the earth.

Now my body puts down roots,
nestling against the pine that weeps with resin.
My emotions pass through the trunk of the tree.

The thread of memories is a long earthworm,
crawling through the empty
corridors where once blood pulsed.
White bones remain still,
slowly dissolving into the vessel of eternal life:
Earth, water, air, lost particles of light,
and my longing for the final union.

Doubts hollow a chamber,
soft and warm – my new home.
When my dream ends,
I will dwell in it.

Now I am the pine.
My needles, bark, and resin
radiate invisible light
for this space, for this world.

Yes, I was once human.
Hatred with violence
And the fear within.
Freedom from distress,
Tranquility lingering.

Only fairness,
A state of harmony.
Presence of justice -
A true symphony.

Peace is not a treaty.
It's the truth.
Nearing my deathbed,
I'll let my hair grow,
even as the first frost
seizes the tomatoes.

Everything, even life,
is a synonym for death.
I'll let my grey hair
explode from my head

like illegal fireworks.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
I'll be fire and smoke
in my hospital room.

I'll be furious, furious
at God for taking me
from my wife and sons.
My defiant hair will be

blasphemous. Who cares
about a pristine afterlife
when living is a joyous
mess? I'll be a manic wren

building his haphazard
nest from twigs, string,
plastic, grass, moss, hair,
and pages from the King

James Bible. I'm liable
to commit any sacrilege.
My hair will serpentine.
I will not acknowledge

the priest who is called
to deliver my last rites.
I'll insult the yellow sun
and curse the moonlight.

I'll lash myself to my bed
with my hair. I'll battle
until the end. My war cry
will be my death rattle

and vice versa. I know
that I'll be frail. My skin
and muscles will sag.
I'll be just hair and ribs.

Yes, when death comes for me,
I know that I'll be weaker
but I'll still make mortal fists
and attack the Grim Reaper.
bought my self  a camper so i could holiday
visit different places have a breakaway
may be visit cornwell maybe dorset to
all the scenery that is there to view

take my detector see what i might find
maybe there is treasure thats been left  behind
take along my snorkel sea what there is to view
lots of different fish and a see horse to

visits lots of bars have a drink or two
like you do on hoilday like your supposed to do
then drive home again till next year comes around
visit other places you have not yet found
 Aug 19 Traveler
nivek
your smile will annoy greatly
those who gloom consistently

-your happiness a bright star
in darkened brooding skies
 Aug 19 Traveler
nivek
traversing the impassable
life over death

a heart for song
gifted at birth
 Aug 19 Traveler
nivek
a sip of nectar
-summer love

a Bee for flowers
-colourful intelligence

golden honey on the tongue
-in winter
 Aug 19 Traveler
nivek
the dice thrown
tumbling numbers

age of death
unknown date getting closer
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