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.