Unfolding the Light
There is this other self; it is a little ahead of me.
It does not look back, only I look back,
I imagine a path all the way to an end.
Of course, it is a conceit to ponder any endings,
we need but to follow the spiral foretelling,
the promise of more.
They say living is easy, I declare that death
is an even greater miracle than life,
a miracle all can demonstrate.
The acorn knows the fertility of emptiness,
how to fill and claim its place in the continuum,
how to depart as a seed once more.
In the end there is no end,
we carry our souls like dead moths
into that secret unknowable,
anticipating a butterfly transformation
one so much stranger than
any token life.
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