I have toiled over this bed of wood and earth,
of spices and herbs, sweet and aromatic.
The smell will linger long after the flames have burnt themselves to shadows
and until the cloud of black smoke has risen high past the the soaring birds
I will lay myself upon this pyre comfortably
Forget my regrets, my pains, and my sufferings.
My erred attempts at love and life will be memories that will no longer linger or hurt.
They will matter no more.
This life is moot.
I shall retire within the flames that will consume me effortlessly and painlessly
When all that is left is the black, burnt earth, and the ashes float away on the back of the wind,
I will fly high into the sky devoid of a single negative thought risen anew from the sweet residue
I will experience my rebirth, looking down upon you with the same eyes but a different view
rejuvenated complete refreshed and atoned
restored for a prosperous diuturnity triumphantly parting the breeze with my substantial wings
I will be me again, but for the first time.
