No Longer I.
No Longer I.
Before I die I want know with certainty that I have lived a full life.
I will end with a crescendo.
I need to experience the fullest and furthest depths of all our collective human emotions.
I want to have left an un-measurable legacy.
I will have wooed women with my words.
I seek to become the silt seen in the sunlit air.
I wish to raise and to fall in between the fog and the dew.
I desire to become an eyelash gently falling upon a single blade of grass or to echo the sound of cracking deep inside a glacial core.
I want to be the smell of cinnamon and the taste of sex.
I will blink like a lighting bug and slowly repeat myself within the shiny blades of a vintage fan.
I wish to see my last breath leave my body in the dark night of still winter air.
I will become the wine, the window, and the divinity there.
I need to be the wind… and be the willow… and the grayness of our forefathers hair.
I seek to melt like butter.
And to wash away.
To disappear…
No longer an I at all.
Before I die I want to know with certainty that I have lived a full life.
I will end with a crescendo.
I need to experience the fullest and furthest depths of all our collective human emotions.
I want to have left an un-measurable legacy.
I will have wooed women with my words.
I seek to become the silt seen in the sunlit air.
I wish to raise and to fall in between the fog and the dew.
I desire to become an eyelash gently falling upon a single blade of grass or to echo the sound of cracking deep inside a glacial core.
I want to be the smell of cinnamon and the taste of sex.
I will blink like a lighting bug and slowly repeat myself within the shiny blades of a vintage fan.
I wish to see my last breath leave my body in the dark night of a still winter’s air.
I will become the wine, the window, and the divinity there.
I need to be the wind… and to be the willow… and the grayness of my forefather’s hair.
I seek to melt like lemon drops.
And to wash away.
To disappear…
No longer an I at all.