NO MORE, NO LESS
TIME TO CLOSE MY EYES NOW,
SPIRITUAL VEGETABLE THAT I AM.
TIME TO HOST SOME WILTING,
CUDDLE UP WITH A LITTLE ENTROPY
AND BREATHE A LITTLE LIFE,
INTO DYING,
SLOWLY TURNING MY BACK
FOR JUST A MOMENT,
ON ALL THAT MENACING MEANING.
I WANT TO LINGER FOR JUST A BIT,
IMAGINING THE PITCHER FULL OF MY EMPTINESS,
SPILLING INTO THAT BASIN OF NOTHINGNESS.
LOOKING AROUND,
TWO QUESTIONS ARISE:
WHAT WILL BE THE LAST THING THAT I SEE
AND IS THERE ANYONE WHO WOULD WANT IT
TO BE THEM?
IN THE MIDST
OF MY ENVISIONED REMOVAL,
IT’S HARD TO NOT BE DISTRACTED
BY BREATHING.
I CAN SEE HOW A GOOD DEATH
REQUIRES IT’S ABSENCE,
THE WHIRRING AT THE NOSTRILS.
THE WIND WITHIN ME
TRYING TO KEEP THE EMBERS OF MY WORLD
FROM GOING OUT.
A CONFLICTED BELLOWS
THAT SIMPLY CAN’T MAKE UP IT’S MIND,
HAS NO PLACE
IN THIS PREVIEW
OF COMING DELETION.
BUT NOW,
BACK TO THE END,
OF WHAT BEGAN,
AS CONSCIOUS CARBON
THAT MORPHED INTO THE ODDNESS
OF ME.
IT’S QUIETER NOW.
A FRESH LONELINESS ARRIVES.
THE FINISHING TOUCHES AT HAND.
I HAVE BECOME THE ASH
OF A MIDNIGHT SNOWFALL,
SETTLING ON THE STONE BUDDHA,
WITHOUT A DOUBT.
* Poem by Richard Walker, featured in his Ilogy project