Grief moves slow so I’ve been told.
A well of Earth’s blood up through
an open vein:
A quick moment in perception interminable.
Something not there there.
In the not there lies a good part of myself.
Good because my love was good in ways I was not.
Lost in him as he goes
this Great Venerable Being of Goodness
who will never be back
Roots clinging to this ground of being
which one day consumes everything
My one small seed left on this tree
must descend to the place it all began
when awareness first took hold.
There by the laws of the universe
rebirth not only possible but inevitable.
Must I die to be reborn?