invisible

some day perhaps,
when I reach the end,
I won't look back,
at the tracks I left
on this still, empty sand,
I'll run like the dingo
into the wildness
of myself
and everything there is,
not wanting to stop
and stand astonished
at the patterns
dissolving
into themselves,
or etched into the grooves
of a history
that must be owned
at all costs,
some day perhaps,
I'll just crumble
and settle quietly,
into the stillness
of this empty sand.