deepundergroundpoetry.com

Harmony Between The Wind And Me


Before I die, take me to the grove by the
creek. Prop me up against one of those
fossil oaks with more rings than I have
years, with the sun pressing shady layers of
leaves through perforations in the treetops. And the  
deer will rear their heads, my caring company  
wide-eyed beneath gnarled wicker horns, listening
to the peaks and valleys in my now-dissonant hum.  
 
When Death comes, He will find me capable. I'll have  
him tie up His horse where it can graze and I'll
sing a song to Him. He'll tell me the secrets of the
universe - how we're all children of the stars, how they
whisper to us in our sleep and influence our dreams. He'll
ask me if I'm afraid, and I'll weave my fingers into the grass and
smile in His direction with tears welling in my eyes. And only  
when the sunlight trills down behind the treeline's cool  
gradation will I take to the back of His stygian mount,
stamping off into the sky over a pale scythehook moon that takes
some of its light from the fading warmth in my shell.
 
After I die, you will find me purifying under a  
cloak of leaves, but still unclean. Take me  
away to a place where flames burn in columns and
cleanse my skin and bones. As my flesh and  
muscle turn to ash, see how it captures me, the  
way the tongues of fire tell me everything will be  
alright.
 
When I am made to dust, take me to the grove by the  
creek. Prop me up against one of those  
fossil oaks with more rings than I had
years and scatter me to the wind so that
I may make fertile the soil and float  
downstream on the water's currents. And
maybe, just maybe, if the sun is pressing shady  
layers of leaves through perforations in the treetops,
and the deer rear their heads, you can listen to the
harmony between the wind and me.
Written by GraveyardBard (Mr. Addams)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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