1262

I cannot see my soul but know ’tis there
Nor ever saw his house nor furniture,
Who has invited me with him to dwell;
But a confiding guest consult as well,
What raiment honor him the most,
That I be adequately dressed,
For he insures to none
Lest men specified adorn
Procuring him perpetual drest
By dating it a sudden feast.

I thought you said you would stay out of my life, Erich Morse.

does it hurt when you die?
i hope not.
i hope you don’t feel it
when your cells fade out
like a star that stopped burning
that you still see.
i hope i never cling on like that.
i hope the end is fast
and drifting
like waves maybe, or
tumbling clouds in the wind.

does it hurt when you die?
does your body still feel
from beyond the grave?
please don’t cremate me.
please don’t subject my bones
to the flames.
please don’t bury me.
i hope i will never feel my skin decay.
i hope i will never feel again.
nothing is worse than the numb
apart from the feeling.

does it hurt when you die?
even growing old
do you feel pain as wrinkled skin
and once-beautiful eyes
change?
i can see your body lying there.
you look so peaceful.
are you sleeping?
or does everything hurt too much?
i hope i never know.
rest in peace.

Every colour of dawn
nameless, holding
all my summer rains
in your eyes
every autumn smile
whispering
the sacred sound
of winter's snow
alighting
on your shoulders
the taste of
spring dewdrops
on your skin
every storm
held within
the hottest sun
in your touch
the strongest wind
the softest breeze
in your voice
Every moon
blade of grass
rises and grows
in the infinite
your presence
I drink from you
nectar of this life
my thirst
never slaked
and I love how
you hold your cup
for me