motionless he remained
his soul already
flown to heaven
veiled in a silken web
the ghost appears
before the death
the buds, the blooms
the finished ones
cosmos telling life’s story
nothing escapes the end
life passes through
on the way
to the great beyond
in the ending
life wholly given
reluctantly zinnia releases
her crowning glory –
Moss writes the inscription
on the tree’s tombstone
well lived, generous even in death.
the first surrender is to color
the second is to be untethered by the wind
and the final surrender is to perish in form and replenish the earth
He goes free of the earth.
The sun of his last day sets
clear in the sweetness of his liberty.
The earth recovers from his dying,
the hallow of his life remaining
in all his death leaves.
Radiances know him. Grown lighter
than breath, he is set free
in our remembering. Grown brighter
than vision, he goes dark
into the life of the hill
that holds his peace.
He’s hidden among all that is,
and cannot be lost.
We are tied to this earth
with a thread more slender and fragile
than the stem of a birch leaf in autumn.
Rocks and trees know not to struggle
but to simply stay until the appointed time comes to go.
Change is forever pulling or pushing.
Do not begrudge the current its way.