Choose My Time To Die
If I can choose my time to die
winter is my first choice
although I can imagine
any season could be good
for releasing ego’s hold
on troubled ecoEarth-engagement,
should there be such a long-named thing
when I choose my AnthroPrivileged time to die.
I would walk out through Earth's sacred trees
to caress and bid farewell
and thank them for this air we breathe
for their patience with my cut-down ways,
I would breathe my richest breath
into their root systems
as I walk on through
fading nests of deep sleep bees
breathing Life and Death
through rich swells of mad elation
rooted inside blustered breeze.
I would lie down on snow
under falling flakes
blanketing this final rest
gathering owl’s rich medicine
listening to her echoing
WhoAreYou
night-ride voice
twinkling back into this miracle nest
of snow-flaking stars
twinkling we kisses
us misses
through our gusty path
Lying down
as cold
and ego-bold
as silent snow.
Co-gravitating
co-arising
timeless
Earth-membered
conscious choice of times we live
to give
as freely as Earth’s melting glow.
Not not old and cold
timeless flowing
eco-fancy
circle dancing,
snow replacing silent stars,
Great Adventure’s rebirth light
Not bright
not might
not night
not sight
not fight
not left
or right.
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