The Harmony of Decay

I pretend not to ache
as my timber splits apart
from within.

I deny that I am collapsing,
my many branches dropping to the ground,
as the wind grips and shakes me
as rain soaks through me.

I hide from the tidal force of insects
scurrying to devour me,
pulling my body
into long meals
for their savoring mandibles,
burying their new eggs
deep in my heart.

The Earth studies the way
everything falls apart.
She hears music
in disintegration,
celebrates the harmony of decay
as it weaves its way
through me.

I only turn to embrace her,
as my fingertips become soil
as my thoughts become
honeysuckled fragrance
on a breeze that finally settles
to the forest floor,
forever.