yes, death is a falling away, stepping
out of your body, like underwear left
lying on the floor of this life's time
though you do indeed, leave your body
it more or less just falls away still

it comes to mind less often
almost like falling onto a
wonderfully new and fluffy
hotel bed waiting to embrace me
and the doctor appears out of
nowhere with his little hammer

oh sweet iris
you are puple perfection
your delicious fragrance,
that of nature's own creation
the sween scent of her
perfume embracing, pentrating
smelling so lucious, so inviting
as proudly you defy gravity
reaching up in profound formation

i search for magic, purple charms
in the folds, so much a part of who
you are, your head and hand reaching

standing on the corner
mesmerized by the sky
purposely slowly splitting
day from night and day again
similar to the cycle of lives
the sky, blood red smeared
all over sunrise and sunset
changing to streaks
the higher the sun, and as
the sun descends, falling away
in between the bloody skies
sky changes from lighter
to brilliant soft colors
of deep blue at it's truest