All the way to Nome, I trace the shadow of the plane as it walks

Over turquoise lakes made by late spring breakup of the Bering sea.

I was not this body,

I was not these bones.

This skeleton was just my

temporary home.

Elementary molecules converged for a breath,

then danced beyond my individual death.

And I am not my body,

I am not my body.

We are brief incarnations,

we are clouds in clothes.

We are water respirators,

we are how earth knows.

I bore light lassed on from an original flame,

while it was in my hands it was called by my name.

But I am not my body,

I am not my body.

You can own a man's body,

you can't own a man's mind.

That's like making a bridle

to ride on the wind.

I will tell you one thing, and I'll tell you true;

Life's the best thing that can happen to you.

But you are not your body,

you are not your body.

No wonder you find yourself

perched on the top of a tall ladder

hoping to add one more.

Just another Wednesday

you whisper,

then holding your breath,

place this cup on yesterday's saucer

without the slightest clink.