My not being

I shall now wait for not being there
To become habit, ship for the land

Standing in the sea to hold a secret
When I will turn just other to others

An epitome of a secret life in death
A ship for a land, a haven for a ship.

My not being there will turn a habit
As death will turn a habit, a red sun

On broad plains of eternity, a night
That has fled time, a habit of death

To the world and the stars to flicker
With my not being , in my absence.

(Echoing Rilke in “You are the future the great sunrise red” from the Book of Hours)