When You Exhale

For the last time only,
Only the last thing you think
You see is important.

As the gasp ignites,
Other eyes are little fires,
Flames flushing out the remains

Of pitri dish goodbyes,
And the carpet is softened
In our sifting footsteps.

Greeting card condolensces will follow
Like funeral confetti, party favors
From the guests at parting.

It's strange that earth and tears
Are so akin, while the sluggish catepillar
Explodes into adult beauty,

Spreading its wings triumphantly
Toward the gold eternal morning.

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