The Final Sleep
I'm learning not to embrace the frantic chase.
With things that are fleeter than me.
For things that wish not to be found.
For things that yearn to weave me to the frozen ground.
I'm learning to receive, graciously.
The things that may make you bleed.
Like love surrounded by white-hot fire.
Truth encased in blue blotted briar.
Peace is always worth the harshest sacrifice.
That doesn't mean I'll no longer engage.
To be that grand, golden giver.
It doesn't mean I've become a bitter quitter.
I'm still very much in the game.
I just lost the desire to keep score.
I'll be dispensing energy and shine more frugally.
Keeping company with dreams and gentle things.
Dodging the brutes and stained-glass boars.
Things that breathe just to bite and sting.
I pray the universe invites me to sample.
Its graceful rhythm and purity.
Of that sweet-sweet final sleep.
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