Undead

A Poem

When I think of being undead
I don’t think of myself as a zombie
but as someone still alive,
someone who has made it this far
and remains an undead object
on a rotating globule of molecules
floating in space, breathing in
and breathing out time

As undead as I am, some days
I feel dead, as if I should stay down
and sleep it off or sleep it on
because that time would be endless
until I realize that the light
just crossed my eyes
and with that beam, I rise
and understand that being undead
is the greatest gift I have

So I walk the streets, undead
and a participant in this life
appreciating each moment
like the last bite of cake
at a child’s birthday party
and somehow, I am that child again
and life breathes me in
and breathes me out
and that is the essence of time

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