When I die, I will
be the wind that blows through the autumn leaves,
at the very top of the trees,
catching the setting sun.
I will flow along with the birds,
lifting their feathers and
soaring, twisting and turning,
dancing.
I won't be sad.
While I'm still here, though,
I'm left trying to muddle my way
through sadness, guilt, release, peace,
as I try and say goodbye.
So long, fare well,
until we meet again.
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