Embarrassing heap of flesh.
Your fixed, contorted pose,
Already in decay
What will become of me?
While I lay waste,
To the scavenging
Of Nature's little creatures
Flying and crawling
Toward the scent of my death
Fierce little teeth,
Persistent pecking beaks,
Tiny sucking mouths,
Tear me apart
Little by little
Bit by bit
The armies of bacterium,
Once held off by my mighty
Biological defenses,
Loot and pillage,
And lay siege
To this thing that was me
And what was not digested
And redeposited in the excrement
Of all those creatures
Who have dined on my putrifying body,
Has dissolved into the ooze
Of viscous liquids,
Rich in composted nutrient,
That find their way into the ground
Where root systems
Of weeds and grasses,
Siphon off the remainder.
And my last essences
Has inspired in them a deeper green.
As I fade from this realm
Of flickering lights,
And of pain that really hurts,
I finally begin to understand,
Who is really feeding whom?
Who was the farmer,
And who was the crop?
My rotting flesh was the food of the soil
The soil was the food of the plants
The plants were the foods I ate…
And then my finality was exhaled
As a clear vapor,
From the tiny pores in their bright green leaves.
And at that parting moment,
I realized it was the same vapor
That had become my first breath
