Death of a poet

In the end I was nothing more than 
some faded meat.
My skin melted
and the explosion was fantastic.
Explosion of a scent from another cosmos
which was the result of
all that energy I have spent
years and years
of thinking.
Me and my weird ideas.
And when I did not exist anymore
my skin was melting,
running inside the roots of the trees
and those trees starting again
the cyrcle of the same ideas
I used to have.
All in silent.
Just like me.

7 thoughts on “Death of a poet

  1. Thanks to the cognitive revolution man has started to think weird things and started to connect with others, which led to ecological desaster we are in nowadays, so to give back a little bit of fluid to nature, seems to me, to be the least!
    Many thanks for these beautiful words:)


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