This is my corner, my long-bearded
quiet place. Does it seem wise to hide
the face when its mouth is moving?
When I say "amen" I am a stranger
to my prayer. It is un-natural to vocalize
good-byes, to seem prepared. I mean...
the last thing you think before you die,
should have been the first. In a round
world, the light folds inward on itself
and disappears. I am not afraid,
there have been deeper, darker woods
than this, less brave who'll follow
and when I press my final kiss,
coveting the dimming, dancing flame,
the sun-soaked ceiling, the ebbing,
twisted veins, what I have given
to the world and all that I have
gained- flows up and outward.