Bury all my entrails.
Y otros deshielos,
Sin ningún cubrimiento
Literal o no,
Sin tumba de piedra
Ni flores ya matados
Para mi indulgencia.
En un bosque.
Tenero e silenzioso,
Ma della grandezza
Dell’Allah creato,
Al lado de un árbol
Que me elegirá
Por debajo de la tierra.
No coffin,
Priests,
City
Nor money.
Planter pépins
Et autres
Futures vies
Dans ma tombe pour que
Mon corps puisse alimenter
Ces pousses du sol.
Pour que les racines
Me donnent bienvenue
Chez ma Maison enfin
Et qu’elles
M’embrassent.
Spread into the world
All the tears & blades
Of my guilts & glories,
Publish one way or another
My mission/
Legacy/
Work to them
With due dedication
Said.
Don’t recall my intelligence
Or talent,
Rather all beauties I was
& gave life to,
My Passion in my
Chosen things,
My love,
Heraldry,
Striving for beating the measlyness
Of this world out of
Or in me,
My wisdom.
How I placed my eyes,
Poems and efforts upon you
And on this state of things’ world,
How Language, Literature,
Words, Dreams,
Tears and Art celebrated my
Days alongside me as true
People indeed.
How I fought shame and death,
Longed to make you feel
My gaze’s intensity on
(Or not) you,
How I kept facing lies
Of useless withering
Despite ingenuity of mine.
I shall finally embrace
Eywa/Allah/God/The Moon
And see if I was worth it all
In the end.
I will probably finally meet
My Lover dearest
To see if they were there after all
And kiss them with the greatest
Fervor I can muster.
I will become all those things
Lingering in the air
And coming to your gut
Knittances
When you sense
And as much suddenly
Can’t explain.
No more will I have to eat,
Sleep,
Be clothed (in muzzle)
Or wear shoes.
No more will anyone make me
Care about how my vessel
Looks like.
Join my departure,
All you
To whom I’ve ever mattered
More than casual,
Join my freedom.
Live, strive,
Breath at last,
Poetise,
Think, love, wonder/wander,
Feel, read, touch,
And literally kiss the
Trees, sky
And all sacralities you are in/on.
And if I hadn’t completed
My mission yet,
I’ll do what I can
To be back
And linger
To
Make
It.
Thank you.
The rest shall come in full-packed richness at this life’s true end.
A long yet just an entry to what I wish to leave as an obituary. Just a beginning and certainly with an end further in the distance than it could be.
Of funeral thoughts N*3
