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Another one bites the dust

Another one bites the dust

Keep in mind
that I’ll die.

I used to suppose,
and who can blame me?,
that the gods would make something of an exception
in my case.

Not so much that I’d never die;
I want to die eventually–
so I can go to the next level.

But I thought,
all things considered:
the extreme violence in my soul,
the laughter all through my thought,
the slowness of the my head-turn;
I thought the gods
and blessed influences
such as they are,
which isn’t to say
that I can enumerate them.

Would go ahead
and let me turn to magic energy,
and change from form to form,
skipping from body to body,
from joke to joke,
but all the while
keeping these memories,
even the childhood in the snow
and the scraggle dry air sunlight overlook between vans with a cousin and some wooden guns
by my side.

Hard to say,
the future being what it is;
but it also seems likely enough
I’ll just inhabit this body
and it will collapse,
and I’ll go down with
the sinking

Oh dear!
Oh no!

we do all rise again.
But I didn’t want to forget anything.
And the way it usually goes
is that you forget everything
except the memory of the soul–
before idea,
before feeling,
before perception.
The memory of the soul.

It’s not that big a deal;
after all,
I don’t remember that much of my life anyway.
So I may as well let these
you know
and emotional
sure, whatever,
start fresh.

I guess.