A pillow from oak,
wild grass my bed,
frail from a wonderful
adventure called life.

 

Occupied by blissful entities,
songs of the forest
whisper reflections of
wondrous elsewhere,
a remedy to spelt passing.

 

Sunlight glistens through
branches above to kiss my skin,
the warmth numbing
my bones so soft to rest.

 

Alternating through oblivion,
I am veiled by the wings of
peace guiding me to
my final breath.

 

As my journey ends,
I gaze down, questioning
my lifeless physique; was I
soul to the host, or host
to a soul?

 

Laying stale, carcass stone,
my skin dips softly into rich soils,
giving back to nature,
for the ground it gave me.

 

Boiling blood weeps down the trunk,
caressing rooted veins,
trailing to bless the earth below.

 

My mind is now of two,
embracing heights amongst the birds
whilst settled peacefully into soil below,
I am reborn...