I want to leave my house quickly, travel quickly,
journey to the neighborhoods of my youth,  
and honor the bones of my parents.
I will weep,
and I will recall,
and go to the ocean.

I know I want to do this,
because I have permitted you
to convince me, that you
and I are important,
convince me that the
rituals and rules we've
conspired to serve for the
secure worshiping of our wealth
are important, that I should
fret, be weary, and despair.

The gods expend no effort.
They look sidelong at our efforts,
and catching their gaze,
I remember, I remember them,
I remember them.
And I am so comforted,
now willing to toss this body,
that we've marked with
sticky tags and pronouncements,
toss it towards the elements
that the gods value,
as they can do useful things with them,
such as reinventing creations
bloated with more love.
You remember - the elements - the fire, the winds,
the oceans.

The ocean, where I want to go,
when I leave this house, quickly,
with you neither invited nor uninvited.
You will know if it's a good idea
to follow, if your personality quakes,
but your soul is well comforted.
Go to the ocean, where and when
my being or not being will have
no concern to me,
as I love the gods,
and I love my parents,
and I love you,
all that maters.