Is green the color of death? Does a soft green light surround it when it arrives, sliding into our embrace?
We glow green growing slowly into its soft arms.
Ah! We give ourselves up into a relaxation greater than we ever felt.
Everything falls off of us till only the bones are left to dance. Green bones, yes, bright green bones.
Is green death’s subtle sign lemniscating, slinking like ribbons of streaming smoke?
We don’t see it, then it engulfs us, an embrace more satisfying than our mother’s healing hugs.
We form ourselves into the stripe of green ribbons and weave our way through the gentle trees
in the woods, forming an exhilarating, jubilant green dance of death.
Dispersed by the soft breezes, we fade. Our ever-so-small particles, our bone dust, get caught in the branches of the weeping willows.
We are not alone as we thought. No, we are with the trees as they take us in. We are with the trees, the leaves, air, breezes, the ground. Everything around.