Praying for death
But I think the death of the ego—
I got the *card* the other day…
The other morning
and instead of activating this paralyzing fear
I remembered that death
Is just a rebirth
A shedding of the past
The freeze or flight
The fawn
A removal of what no
longer serves me
A gentle? Actually, so harsh reminder
That I can always begin anew—
even after what seems like extreme anger and self betrayal…
And then this morning
Another glorious, simple morning
I flipped through this black spiral journal
The one I am writing in now—
And immediately saw that we both
Prayed hard for us— for sweet, sweet death
But also remembering that we can awaken
In this very, 3-D illusory simulation we call life
The veil lifting…
Each sherbet dawn a fresh genesis arisen
An ancient spell cast
Round this flesh body
Always in communal service of
The absolute divine
Even when I think I’m *definitely* not
It’s all just another anti-Kafkaesque metamorphosis
Or peeling of the eternal
Onion to my
Truest self
The purest,
quickest
Dwindling down (up?)
To my exact flower essence
In the beauty way—
This death
The witness
I watch it
Repeatedly,
separately,
Forever
Unfolding—
nightshiftsister 