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Invitation to Her Navel Celebration
No time for the dead, all's been taken.
The dead spend time, denatured.
Time yawns, stretches, stalks,
Leaving behind in shadow dust
Death in blank moccasins that walks
As soon or late, you must.
(lifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifelifel)
The flowers will wilt, shriven.
Wilt rife in blossom, driven.
Soul awakes, enlivens, transcends,
Leaving behind chrysalis of skin.
Metamorphosis; to soar
As soon or late, you die or explore.
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