When I Dye

Arabstronaut on October 29, 2013 14:09

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    When I die
    I won’t be buried in a casket
    My arms won’t be folded on my chest,
    My palms won’t rest on my heart.
    I won’t be Six ft. beneath
    Draped in a white cloth
    Laying on the right side of my body
    When I die
    I won’t be like my ancestors
    Commemorated in a tomb
    I gave up the praising of their antiquity
    It is good to embrace the dead
    But I’d better embrace the living
    There is no such thing as a dead spirit
    I’m merely a conciseness
    And inside of me death is alive
    When I die
    I will break this life cycle
    And elevate this soul
    I will be a floating spirit
    Playing with the new born
    This Flesh is already dead
    And so as the echoes of my past
    Even in this poem,
    I’m not living with the world
    I’m on a time capsule
    Tickling my future being


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