When I die;

I don’t want to be buried.

Turn me into compost.

Spread me across your garden,

Let my life bloom through the flowers.

The roots gripping tightly onto me like you once used too.

Let me be always,

Everywhere,

All at once. 

Spread me over a hill,

Easy to west.

Let me bathe in the morning sunrise.

Leave me out to freeze as the suns light wanes,

Giving its stage to the moon.

Throw me into the ocean.

Let the waves rock me to sleep – a constant reminder of how it feels to be held and cherished. 

When I die let it mean something. 

Don’t just let me be worm food.