I sit on the bench by a cherry tree. I have sat here all my life. This spring morning, I am so still the birds hop up to me or light on my arm. And the breeze blows through me. There’s no hidden self, no secret self. Inside me lies the planet that was my life.
It is I who painted the mountains with glory. And the sky with flame. It is I who wears the pink blossoms in my hair. For a moment, I am flush with forgiveness.
Hush, I am trying to forget. I will stand in a moment and leave this place. To its absolute loneliness and charm. I will hobble through the gate and down the road built by strangers. In the perfect symmetry of a life left behind. - Barry Klassel
