A Meadow Somewhere

someday the insides of my lungs will be worms. beetles will clean up my bones. white that mimics the soul. you almost can't tell how rough life was. the tears shed. small sprigs of life rise from the fresh earth above my head. moss and shadows blanket my legs. I hope my bones make a good home for the small beings who innocently feed on what is left of death. the flowers whose roots entwine with what's of my existence make me happy one ending feeds another beginning.