In the Seam

　　We have passed from death unto life

　　This is not a border,

　　boundary, reality

　　I thought I would remember

　　crossing.

　　I suppose I must have

　　toed the line

　　to get here, to Earth,

　　to the joyful pain

　　of living and loving. But

　　stealing away

　　to death?

　　I was too busy being alive

　　The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

　　to think about the eternity

　　hidden behind the curtain.

　　But when you

　　clumsily exit the body

　　and the boundary between

　　life and the spirit grows

　　fuzzy and worn,

　　You start to eye the foundations

　　and gateway of death, which

　　somehow doesn`t mean

　　the end of thought, or mind,

　　or passion for art, the run,

　　the periodic elements,

　　the sway of horses or the

　　upraised hands in a classroom,

　　the blocks of code or concrete.

　　I never knew how close I would

　　be to the living even

　　in death—the only thing dead

　　 in me now the fear

　　of departing the known.

　　I have entered a sacred reality,

　　and it`s more real

　　than my clearest dwelling

　　memories. This seam between

　　here and there is not black,

　　heralded by grinning bones or

　　somber notes peeling

　　into a forever void of meaning.

　　It`s bright.

　　A single step

　　and you`re there.