I lie on the forest floor
with moss beneath,
delaying my sinking into the dirt.
Water beads on my skin,
capturing the trees and the green in its reflection.
Each breath feels easier than the last,
the ground guides my lungs with its own rising and falling.
Flowers creep along my limbs,
shy at first,
then slowly, they bud and bloom,
tickle the inside of my ear.
They whisper a song,
one whose melody is almost familiar,
and I feel myself erase.
My body breaks down, gives back to the wood,
and there's a certain relief in it,
as I take to the less physical world.
My bones bleach in the sunlight that slips through the leaves of the trees, my brethren.

No one will find my decaying form,
the remnants of a meaningless existence,
instead they'll find a small patch of red and blue and yellow,
of plants they can't quite name,
of petals that are silk to the touch.

In my last moments, I smile.