lying limpid
dissolving into the dust
the sun failing to persuade me
back into life
I can feel the tendrils of her curls
the hot breath from her lips
she leans over my departing spirit
and whispers . . .
. . . here is where you wanted to be
the mountain eerie away from noise
in sight of angels spiralling down
to collect your soul
and all the memories you ever held
will be gathered for eternity
shared amongst the stars
to forever float free . . .
. . . this then
is the finality of my life
the pending obsolescence of flesh
total release
slideaways 
Memories gathered and spread amongst the stars – beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m sure Mr Musk will be offering the service soon 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Is death a she? Or is that a mortal who is talking to you?
I kind of think being shot into space from some sort of capsule after death might be nice.
Then in some light years time on planet ZOG there might be another chance?
However, I think we all come from dust and should go back there when the show’s over.
Nice words as usual Colin, hope you’re keeping well!
LikeLiked by 1 person
we live in an increasingly gender fluid age but for me death is most certainly a she and I’m looking forward to sleeping between her big comfy breasts!! If that can’t be arranged then it’s back to the dust I will go. Cheers Graham. Yes all good with me. Hope the same for you too.
LikeLike