When Only the Spirit Survives (prose-poetry)

[Patrick Frank]

I sleep for a few hours,

wake up, write poetry

and read,

 

feel the silence,

alone downstairs.

 

It's okay, but I feel

cut loose from the moorings

of time itself,

 

maybe in an alternate universe

where time itself is irrelevant.

 

And I wonder, is this how it feels

after the physical body has crumbled

to dust

 

and only the spirit survives?

 

[Zanelle]

I try to imagine what that feels like sometimes.  Most people are afraid to crumble into dust but it might be fun.