;

I wonder what its like
to be one with the earth-
to entwine my hands with the willow tree’s roots,
to dance in the rain alongside the worms,
to be wrapped in a blanket of moss,
bathed in the scent of damp soil,
and to slowly dissolve into the ground,
crumb by crumb.

I wonder how it feels
to leave behind nothing but a speck of dust-
A speck no one sees, no one mourns.
to take a breath no one hears,
and be swept quietly,
into the crevices of the floor.

Where even the wind forgets your being-
As if you hold no meaning-
And you can drift in the solace of being small,
insignificant,
invisible-
Where drowning in nothingness
brings about peace
and is oddly freeing.

Where the 7 am bus I catch everyday,
will still leave without me.
The dog statue I always wave at,
will continue to stand smiling.

The tree I always greet with a tug of its branch,
will wave to the wind instead.
The sunrise I admire each morning, will not cease to exist in my absence.

The moon that walks me home,
will simply follow someone else.
And the night sky I always look up to-
wont dull its glow
to grieve a pair of eyes,
that no longer gaze.

But-
The clothes in the dryer will remain unkempt,
Waiting to be folded into drawers
that won’t be opened again.

The 7am bus driver might take a second look
at the empty stop, that once held
my sleepy silhouette.

The tree's branch might sway out of habit,
as if still expecting the warmth of my tired hand
to brush it’s leaves.

The stray cat I feed each dusk,
Will linger by my doorstep,
Unfazed by the cruel bite of the cold breeze.

The flower I'd planted last week,
will wilt away,
Waiting to be watered.

And the book on my bedside table,
With a bookmark frozen between chapters,
Will remain unfinished and tattered-

Unfinished
until it’s picked up again
by the same hands-
The hands that signal the bus to stop,
that greet the trees with a gentle tug,
that fill the stray cat’s empty bowl,
and that quench the flower’s aching thirst.

And just like that,
the bookmark’s fate will change-
From marking an end,
to holding a place,
between what was
and whats yet to be faced.

Theres no ending-
Not just yet.
what once felt like a full stop-
was only a pause,
held on by a quiet tug before what comes next.

To be continued;