My Death

(Wednesday prompt: write a poem about your own death.)

The tunnel, the light,
the rushing wind,
the dim shapes glimpsed
as I glide past;
then the emergence
into a garden;
the love pouring
from the pure, radiant
source of the light,
and all that singing …
no, perhaps not.

A fragment, expanding
like widening ripples
to merge with the All,
one golden spark
rejoining the great fire,
finding my place
in the whole
consciousness of God,
attaining full knowledge,
full being … nah,
save that for later.

Heavens and Nirvanas
don’t entice me;
rather let me fly
airy, light and free,
to move at whim
between deserts and oceans,
mountains and rivers,
islands, waterfalls,
villages, cities …
let the world be my eternity,
my home.

5-7/6/08