Here, in this moment
where our skin is submerged,
and there are no shrouds,
no reputations
to unravel,
die with me
just once
while we are still breathing,
only holding
the greatest possible good,
complete and utter despair,
without preference—
to
die,
wake,
taste
this exquisite life.
Can we stop
everything together,
notice
that the flow of breath
continues
without our willing it so?