Me

 

Will I know
when breath escapes me
that it’s my last?
The note I always hear,
an early morning bird-call
sets me free?
No encore
can call me back.
This flame called life,
a candle light,
will it burn
bright one last moment,
then be gone?
Is darkness bright
when I take flight from quiet form,
a sunrise that never fades?
Or is sense of self,
like breath,
lost to greater breezes
that blow forever,
a wind that shapes stars
and leaves the me I was
to become some other?
Breath will escape me,
sure as water flows to sea.
This me
will sometime
cease to be.

*

©
david coyote
4/11/05

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