Becoming Still

I surrender beneath the stars,
wrapped in a blanket
of silver moonlight.

Everything I was has faded
in the welcoming silence.
There is no more ache or longing —
just the soft whisper
of the breeze against my skin.

I sink, breath held quiet
into the soil.

The roots entwine my bones
soothing me to sleep
like a lullaby in the darkness,
as delicate decay
consumes me.

I do not move;
there is no need to.

The stillness cradles me
as if it knows my name.