a last rising thought, buoyant
as warm air
a scent, a cool
sensation on the skin
the last sight
of a world’s symmetry
in flaring silence
as life ceases to fix its gaze
an emptying into atoms, more
minute than dust, the after-death
dark crumbling of mind
and flesh and spirit
into buoyancies of light
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem