Many years my bones have lain here among the roots.
Their tangled nerves, where they have penetrated
my wooden shroud, brush my face.
The worms, the ants, the gophers
keep me company in my long sentinel,
tucked tightly into the grit.
Above, scoundrels topple
the witness to my name and days.
Cries of glee mock that soon embracing fate.
Do not be afraid, I want to say.
It is not what you think, this long journey.
This fling into the universal void is not dark, but light.