Wednesday, April 24, 2013

What matters

When the body goes the way the body goes

who am I then? Bones and thinning skin.

There used to be matter that was me

that mattered. In the end I float,

some kind of seed pod

lofted by the wind--where I'll end up

no one can guess. In time, I could be

a tree trunk or star stuff.

In these hopes of immortality,

I rest.