I am sleepy, tired like a young child
falling asleep in his food at the evening table.
Complete. Filled. Fulfilled. Ready.
I sit by the edge of my grave.
I had them dig, straight down, standing up,
A cross below ground.
Not to ascend. Not to descend.
Not to occupy forever.
More to become one with.
As I was shown for the end.
It is time.
I am old, but not sick, frail,
weak, or faint.
It is my time. That is all.
Time for the second death.
And I know it.
Mother is gone
to be called again
to form on the other side.
To join Son, Father, and husband
And I too, to become.
I am he whom the Lord loved.
I am he who partaked of the way
and the visions.
I, who was given to care, to see,
to live again and to die again,
They come now. To be with me.
Those that belong to Him
still in my care.
I slide into the ground, raise out my arms,
and rest. Head down. Feet firmly on Spirit Earth.
They fill the grave with dirt. My head sticks out.
They cover it with a wet cloth and walk away.
I am alone, but joined, one with all.
I wait, breathing, listening, opening,
as He comes.
In the great shining white light.
Arms out to embrace me.
Smiling his love.
I, the Eagle of God,
fly into the light,
joined into the one,
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