(Marc Chagall, Bride with a Fan)

Dissolver of sugar, dissolve me, if this is the time.

Do it gently with a touch of a hand, or a look.

Every morning I wait at dawn.

That's when it's happened before.

Or do it suddenly like an execution.

How else can I get ready for death?

You breathe without a body like a spark.

You grieve, and I begin to feel lighter.

You keep me away with your arm,

but the keeping away is pulling me in.

~Rumi