The Ocean’s Edge

When the last prayer is said and the mourners go home,
carry me down to the ocean’s edge
that I might hear the rollicking surf
and sing one last song with the circling gulls.
Set me down on moist sand strewn with
seaweed and shells, near the place where
tidepools reflect the moon’s glow.
There I will welcome vibrant new life
borne in the froth of the incoming tide.
Be poised and ready for the sight of a star
streaming across the western sky,
then cast me high in the favoring wind
toward the tail of the comet
splitting the night.
And I will grasp the ephemeral,
streaking light and be off
on a grand and glorious
ride toward the gentle
beat of creation’s
heart.