Immortality or Bust

Well, I think I'd like
to hang around as long as I can. I'd love
to see where we'll be in 500 years. It's
the surprise and the wonder
that make it so great
to behold
to see it unfold
all of it ours to have
and hold

Even assuming there's a heaven
where the scales will fall
from your eyes, and you understand
all the heart-piercing whys,
and you live forever in perfect, absolutely
perfect bliss, in paradise

- well, if so, it'll still be there
when I get there. If I do. Meanwhile,
this garden has and needs its weeds,
and some of them are beautiful.

I can't get enough of this.
I love this life.
Heaven's going to have to work
hard, to live up

to just what we can see in the light.

But I don't really want to be
immortal. I guess. Especially
if it means being essentially alone,
or continuously bereaved. I'm fine
with dying,

I fully intend - it's
the only thing on my bucket list. But

I love the view from here
where we stand,
where we lie down
in grass, at the top of a hill.

Still, it would be kind of cool
if it could be me and one other person
I loved. Both of us
could stay so long, I bet
we could make that work. I'm
totally fucking accommodating! As long
as I've got

a partner
who will meet me three-quarters of the way.

(I meet her seven-eighths.)