In Praise of Death. A Poem
In Praise of Death
Not vile of war
not endurance
of pain, sickness
nor desires aim
nor underfoot
nor poison’s purchase
nor sudden loss of.
A simple death
everyday, ordinary
without drama
in bed, loved ones around
kettle on, nothing special
in sleep
mindful
noting last breath
alone, content.
I walk past my grave I can see behind me a small bump in the earth formed in the forgotten spaces in my mind. Oh, the final song heralds a full day no more shadows cast upon the dawn Illiterates crave their own legacies as if the self had importance attached to its demise. A fading of fire nowhere left to burn where all events cool out, a sublime finality of breathing praise be to heaven. Life is not death death is not life that is not this this is not that never twain shall meet. Death is nowhere life is not ahead nor found behind i am not found not here, not there nor in between. Never need to know if I am or am I not the blink of an eye says what matters without weight of tears to then wipe away. A bird of prey spies outside heaven’s door curious field mouse wanders into field wings flutter above facing the wrong way. Old thoughts form a an imposter on life an imposter on death such thoughts fade peace finds the soul. in blink of a lifetime. Never come to terms with life and death insubstantial pairs mindful of both offers a tangible relief to presence and absence. Ancient utters loud when I am here death is not here when death is here I am not here. No fusion of both free at last final divorce birds of a feather feel the breeze free at last. Deathless reveals.