Something Else

Something else:

that I will be something else again, recycled to the dust or my origin, particles carried on - nothing but this sense of self is gone, my true life as nature continues in its use, reborn in subtle aspects of earth and sky. I will be again something new, my true life not ended. 

perhaps a certain sense will linger, moments, or maybe longer still - to this, I just don't know, and give it no concern. It seems to me that life is without definite conclusion, simply a return to mystery, and that life goes on through infinite trade of all the parts that made me. 

only mystery is sure.

and really, the something else that I become is no less than what I am now, already, and have always been - there is no aspect of life apart from me, a seamless existence, and that my appearance as this self is equal to every blade of grass, tree, and mountain, interdependent all, and belonging to this constant trade. In reality there is no something else, but only continuation through a different guise. 

what I am, without this sense of self - continues. 

so I will be found in other aspects, just as my life now belongs to all that came before, and is even at this point surrendering to something new. It's a subtle becoming, a shift of appearance really, and nothing essential is ever lost. 

only infinitely traded, 

~

Peace, Eric