I have thought about being something
Other than myself

To be the smoke from an exhale
Of a shortening cigarette
Fading into the air.

To be a brown leaf
Of a dying tree
Falling to the ground.

To be the the bubbles
Of a powerful ocean wave
Incorporating back to the mass.

To be free of this mortal shell
Of despair and agony and turmoil
Drifting through the world.