I’m a walking dead
a crawling corpse
I refuse to die even though
I’m already dead.
I died several years ago,
there was lightening and I fell,
I fell by his side, like many others,
I fell and I saw me, and him.
He took my hand and
showed me the world,
he spoke of nature and reality,
of love and compassion.
I sunk into a lake and dissolved
into the water, into the world.
I was drank by the living,
I became flesh and leaves.
I died and didn’t understand
the meaning of my death,
maybe just a dream and
nothing more, just a vision.
I died and started to rot,
piece by piece I crumbled,
slowly falling apart completely,
inevitably, hopelessly.
I cried, asked for help, screamed,
but nothing could stop it,
nobody could help me,
my dead was a fact, a reality,
I died, and now I see my corpse,
I see my empty grave waiting,
it’s time to rest, it’s time to sleep,
it’s time to stop fighting.
I died because I asked for it,
I called the lightening,
I sat and waited, I sat and saw
the huge graveyard I joined.
We all died by his feet, by his words,
we all died to follow him,
trust and faith, prostrate and surrender,
death and rebirth, wisdom and love.