A Poet's Hereafter

Someday there will be rest,

when life's fickle breezes calm,

and my breath stills with it,

the sky will fade from indigo

to deep, infinite, starless black,

and the earth will tuck me in

with blankets of soft clay,

wrapping me in a warmth my body

will never again know.

Memories of me will fade away,

like dying stars that find new homes

in crevices of faraway mountain sides.

No fragment of my existence will remain

not in thought,

nor bone,

nor in the caw of crows

who bring trinkets to newfound lovers.

Yet my soul in these words may yet leave

a piece of me here

that may linger

for a time,

and grant life to me anew

through your heart and eyes.