this death

today,
I sit beside this corpse
in an old skin of mine,
its eyes closed
in deep conversation
with its emptiness,
its hands resting lightly
upon its chest,
holding everything
and nothing
in one tight clasp,
its legs stretched
and spent,
after a long journey,
with one piece of cloth
shrouding, celebrating,
its well-worn scars,
with its face frozen
into a peace that glows
and becomes
this one lifetime lived
with these human eyes,
and the scent of home
lingering
in every smile and tear,
and pore opened
and closed,
the stillness of a breath
that has overflowed
into a world now ready to move on,
yes, this skin lies content,
with nothing more to be or do
or become.

and some day,
I wish to leave this world like that.