When my human days are done
and I walk the path of the long goodbye
I will not be gone.
Will some particle of me take form
in rock or stone,
ruby’s heart or emerald’s gleam?
Or will my flash of green and red,
touched with gold,
draw your eye to the blur of hummingbird wings?
of the lake’s constant changing –
Is it there I’ll be?
Perhaps, in the creaking of branches
and the susurration of leaves,
you’ll sense a trace of me still.
Or maybe I’ll be a sprinkling
of stardust on indigo
somewhere far out in the universe.
It’s somehow comforting to know
that the particles that make up ‘I’
may scatter, but they (almost) never die!
February 7, 2018