When You Are Dying

 

When you are dying, 
you will be confused  
by the din of silence
like 10,000 waterfalls
gushing out of your core,
drowning the noise of the world.
And as you sink into that
lovely thunder of white water,
you'll try to remember what it was
you needed to do in the world.
"There was something
I needed to do," you'll say
to no one else.
It will be like trying to remember
a dream, a dream
receding as the sky recedes
when you float down
into the green crystal deep.
Then, in a moment,
a moment that has no edges,
like a plum blossom bursting
its shell of snow,
you'll remember what it was,
what it was you
were supposed to do
in the world.
You were supposed to be happy.
To breathe gratitude
for no particular reason.
That was it.
That was all.