The Cauldron

I'm grateful goddammit!

I'm grateful for late nights rekindling the fires of my wild, inner landscape.

Let me burn, baby!

I want all of me stirred into the cauldron.

Let all of me come to be ashes after I burn through and through. My ashes, powdered flakes silently drifting in the wind like snow. They eventually land, uneventfully, on the ground, only to be swept up in whirls with another gust.

I passionately die, so I may be reborn in this moment, yet again.

Fresh.
New.
Alive.

Through the lava of my awakening, I grieve all that I was and all that I have ever held.

Yet,
I remain,
here,
now,
present for all that is
in this very
moment.

A sprout enjoying the sun and the rain in mineral rich soil.