I have dreamed of death and mine
As if it were ungrateful of me to keep
Living and breathing, although
I have laid the rest of thy divinity
In a place so deep inside of me
That like a pilgrimage I scattered youth
The Autumn innocence that
Empties me of feeling every year
With each passing summer I leave
A part of myself well and beloved behind
And in doing so, I die enough to stalk
The future of my own gifts
That won’t be mine, but in meeting you
Will have unveiled something of the infinite
Where I can live irresponsibly and fine
Not bound by this Earth that won’t keep me lovingly
There’s no shadow’s length I bet
No growing pale as I strive
Who can understand the imperfection?
Of our humilities, that leaves
The orchard of our shared vulnerability
Open and not barren, where thrives
Scanty sunbeams for hidden fruit
Proof that we hung Springs together well.
Wuji Seshat 