When I’m Gone

When I go, I hope it’s early in winter before the ground freezes. When I gave up on religion I gained everything and understood
for the first time what I really am, a part of all that is.

When I’m gone bury me just below the roots of the grass in a field in Montana. So I have time to decompose before spring comes.
I want to be a piece of the first blades of soft grass or the crisp, early morning dew.
I want to be a part of the daisies first bloom so that the butterflies
can carry me home.

When I’m gone carry me to Montana, so I can lie next to nature.  Giving up on religion gave me everything, because for the first time,
I am everything.

When I die I become part of what is around me.  Don’t put me in a box to set still with the wood hidden in the ground.  Lay me just below the roots of the grass in a field in Montana, so when spring comes, I will be part of everything that
I am around.