A poem about death:
Lose track of the wind
On the mirror surfaced lake
Christening the sky
With clear intent
Where is the coffin
But sky and earth
The heavens, the ornaments
And yet in the kitchen,
Where life is rebirthed
There gathered the women
Pottery deep into breakfast
Reassuring one another
The calm center of the maelstrom
Change the only constant
There is light in the darkness;
The light in chaos
So is life with death
Born when it was time to be born
Die when it’s time to die
The movement, the process,
Where the repose of peace with time is apparent
It follows the order of things
Neither joy nor sorrow can take hold
Yet in Spring, herald of rebirth,
It feels like Winter
Like the depths of the ocean
Have suddenly become thick air
Upon this fleeting dream-world
Dawn is breaking
The trees bedeck themselves
The willow boughs in comprehension
The direction of love is not lost
But the deeper treasure of sweetened time
Will be its own reward
Light of Love 