Clay or soul

When I die,
My share of things,
Will be none,
My share of love,
will be the mighty sky.
I leave my clay,
Embrace the wholeness of my soul.

Between now and then,
Might be a one step,
Or perhaps more.
I take them all,
With the same pace,
Hand in hand,
With awareness.

I am a happy soul,
Dead or alive,
In my place,
Clay or soul,
Love grows.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

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