, ,

My last Breath

Shall say I, Spirit! at the top of
my weak lungs, for I came, lived
and go, a spirit not a ghost—

After all, a spirit not a ghost.

Beatty’s Bullworth spoke to me,
depressed we get tired knowing
our best tries came up short.

Excelsior! said the hiker, hiking past
doubt until in the clouds he yelled
Excelsior! died breathing, spirit
yelling in his lungs.

Spirit! yell I, and with my last
breath I’ll comply, with whatever
it takes to inspire a final soul
before I return to that which
creates earth, land, sky and I

Returning we never die,
to earth, land, sky and I say:


And so never to die.