Sometimes We All Die Poem by T.R. James Bray

If I was dying, I would tell you
of all the places I have dreamed we would go together
but I preferred lying with you in our bed.
The stories would contain details of the food we would eat in these exotic places
although, never better than your lentil soup.
I would try to explain how you had influenced me
as time is racing past
I am dying now.
How I look at life differently and search for the unity and love in things.
The ways that beauty has engulfed my reality and how you find it in the everyday.
I have just died, slipped to the other side
slept on the couch, said hello in the morning and left.
So, I guess it may be time to travel from the couch
to where I want to be;
lying in bed, eating lentil soup and seeing the strange designs
in the cobwebs in the window or the dust on the piano.
Retiring early with a van and a road map laid out in front of me
was always the plan.
The naked future staring at me, communicating in strange Morris code
Numbers not sounds,
"take the 10 to the 135 go north, stop at the rest area crossing the 7, piss."
If I wasn't dead, you would be the navigator.
But I'm dead,
So, follow me into the light and out of this strange existence
which has always been encumbered by the expectation
that not being dead, could be any better than this.