To be tossed at sea like flotsam
the waves taking you where they will
to be both guest and prisoner
to see with eyes closed in the dark
to become nothing in the forge
then heated and molded to shape
to grind away stones with teardrops
to be like water receding
to laugh like an unfolding rose
to be so empty of yourself
that you can forget how to breath
to be laid out flat on the ground
and be pronounced dead at the scene
to cremate your own heart, and give
ashes and half-loves to the wind
to emerge from your own cocoon
to die and come to life each day
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