Hari Smith Holms

Let me sleep, under the
shade of the pine trees.
The storms of the human mind,
must not kill my acquired peace,
which I lent from the sky.
I'm now lying on my back
and watching the flock of birds,
where from they came and where
to go they needn't know.
The magnets of the earth
will make them know.
They are migrating from
one place to the other,
ignorant of their next habitat.
They don't know but are
destined to go to the place
they stayed in winter.
Invading the blue of the
colossal firmament they
are flying in a design,
in a rhythm, preconceived
by the god, our creator.
I'm dying in the dew
of grass, inhaling the
air with my last breath.
I love this very world.
So, deny to leave.
But, my body is breaking
in pieces and getting
mingled in earth, water
fire, air and sky.
I'll soon die........