Sunlight filters down through
a sieve of gauze,
alighting upon my face.
Its lovers caress warming me.

I hear movement around me.
Life opens in blooms of color
and scents I can taste.
My world awakens me anew.

I wear a crown of Green
and a robe of Blossoms.
My feet are encased
in the stalks of my labor.

I rise from my grave
to feel the Earth’s movement
against my face.
Billowing feathers brushing my body.

I now feel the full force
of the sun upon my face.
Glistening drops of dew
sprout from my forehead.

The air around me is alive
with darting dashing shadows.
Their soft touch turns savage
as they make me burn with fire.

My skin toughens, hardens, from this onslaught.
Dries from the harsh stare of my father sol.
It cracks and crumbles as it catches fire.
It cries out in thirst.

The sun begins to fall from the sky.
My legs falter, sapped of the morning’s strength.
I sit down upon the cooling ground
wrapping my brown blanket around my shoulders.

I had forgotten the cool comfort
of the Earth beneath me.
I relax and let the winds
rage above me.

I no longer hold interest
in the happenings above me,
I have spurned it for the pain
it has delivered unto me.

I begin to feel hungry.
A growling hunger, deep inside.
I begin feasting upon
the soft green that surrounds me.

Night falls and with the fire of my hunger abated
I must now lie down and sleep.
I close my eyes to the world
and let the coldness of the ground seep into my bones

A great white quilt is laid across my
resting form.  It is a cold comfort.
The things in the Earth begin to feed  upon my flesh,
stripping me down to my dark bones.

I turn fitfully on my bed, my body angry with my laziness.
My bones clack together, sticks rubbing each other to make fire.
I twist, frightened by my nightmare of an endless night,
an endless night where I am stalked by grinning death.

I grow stiff in my grave, cold glass encasing my bones.
Daggers form on my hands, my eyes become clear and sightless.
The night howls above me, hungry and hunting for prey.
I lie still … motionless … dead as the night around me.

With dawn, the pinprick of rain comes.
My bones, brittle from the long night, begin to break.
Underneath their hardness lies soft pink flesh.
The ground prepares me for another day.

(Repeat)

Copyright 1996 Christopher D. Testerman