the tree of life, or - how to die well.

When the time is right, could I come here to die?

Hopefully many years from now, but not so long that my tired body can’t carry me deep into the forest to find you. 

But let’s say I do.

Let’s say I’m blessed with that gift of approaching willingly and with presence.

Maybe then I could come and rest my bones amidst your roots.

Maybe then I could finally give up all the ways I try to hold myself up by a belief that there’s no ground. 

Your branches, extending out, penetrating this infinite space around us, and a soft warm light dancing with your foliage.

Maybe this could be the last thing I see.

Could loneliness exist in a place like that?

Maybe in that moment I could rest into my inseparability.

Maybe I could surrender.

Maybe I could allow all that I frantically hold onto to dissolve into the Great Mystery.

Maybe my last breath would rattle the leaves, but only gently.