Oblivion

i have come to terms 

with my body

decomposing 

into soil;

blooming flowers 

after my wake; 

so I may never wake.

So long as my ideas

do not die with me. 

For if I am anything 

i am my thoughts

not only blooming after 

but before; 

in my dreams, 

in the color of the sky,

in the way my hands quake

as they rapidly pound the keys,

and shape this poem. 

my hope

is to not let this poem die. 

My hope is to give life

where there is death,

and meaning 

to chaos.