Transition
in the end
my dear friend
you won’t need
your spectacles
or your teeth
you won’t need
your shoes
or your wallet
you won’t need
your belt
or your buckle
you won’t need
your hat
or your coat
you won’t need
your watch
or your pen
you won’t need
a shower
or a commode
you won’t need
a phone
or a quarter
you won’t need
a television
or a remote
you won’t need
a car
or a house
you won’t need
a lawnmower
or a shed
you won’t need
a table
or a chair
you won’t need
a book
or a map
you won’t need
an envelope
or a stamp
you won’t need
your shirt
or your pants
you won’t need
trinkets
or tools
you won’t need
a cane
or a walker
or a wheelchair
you won’t need
a cup
or a saucer
you won’t need
a fork
or a spoon
or a knife
you won’t need
a ticket
or a receipt
you won’t need
a list
or a reminder
you won’t need
to go
and come back
you won’t need
a key
or a lock
you won’t need
to talk
or be heard
you won’t need
to know what day
week or year
you won’t need
to please
or plan
or promise
you won’t need
a lamp
or a candle
or a stick
you won’t need
a match
or a lighter
or a switch
you won’t need
a compass
or a channel
or a chime
you won’t need
a toothpick
or a brush
or a comb
you won’t need
a dip
or a snuff
you won’t need
plenty
or enough
you won’t need
up or over
you won’t need
before or after
you won’t need
this
anymore
the sun and moon
will converge
the wind will lift you
like a leaf
and carry you across
the blue sea
to the end of the ocean
where the earth is ending
and the heavens just begun
TL