Before I die,
I wish to put my mind at rest.
An improvisation of my being.
And a visualisation-
Of a man who tries.
Soon this will come to light-
Let us hope.
A tear may run down my cheek
As the moon//
Fired from it’s grave,
Walks me into the light.
This time,
I’ve found my soul.
Boiling in a pot of stew.
Heated not by fire-
But my fear of the dark,
And all that lurks in the shadows-
Of my mind.
Strangely enough,
//I started to swoon.
Looking closer,
And past the shadows.
I saw my love for the creatures-
Of the sea.
Not hindered any longer,
For the harpoons-
That had previously called their name.
Understanding this,
The moon had let me die.
It set me on it’s knee,
And told me about the story-
About the honeybee,
That had been let free.