JAE ROSE

I look out of the night-time window, hear little cricket(s) and ponder. Bury me with the lies I told, and remember me for my truths. The lies and truths are not balanced. Everything I have said or done has been meant with truthfulness and candour. The biggest lies I have told have been spoken loud and clearly and only to myself – you are not worth life – you are not worth living (well) – and even that thought shifts and blinks like stars and clouds. All to be carried away. 

It is not important whether I remembered or not. The biggest gift of death is that lies and truths sink into the earth and are long forgotten as the days shuffle on. When I go, she will go and our energy will feed the plants and so the birds. And those birds will soar forever.