I lie in the warm grass. 

The sun is low in the sky.

I inhale deeply.

The earth breathes with me.

Weeds grow and tangle across my body.

Moss grows on my hands and feet. 

I slowly dissolve into dirt. 

I am the earth. The earth is me.

Cold sets in.

Months pass. 

Slowly the days get longer. 

The sun warms the soil and as it comes alive, so do I.

I am knit together again. 

I am pushed and pulled.  

It is slow and furious. 

It is everything and nothing. 

I am where I started, lying in the sun.

I see a blade of grass unfurl beside me.

I hear a tulip break the surface of soil.

I smell the beginning and the end.

I sit up.

Roots untangle from my hair.  

I rise.

I am dirt and rot and miracles. 

It has always been like this, and it always will.