December 12, 2001
I died

I laugh inside knowing the possibility of change could force me to live away from my forest. If it were meant to be—I’d be the saddest man on earth. I would die.

I died in 1972—in art class. Todd Munson put me in a sleeper hold… I don’t remember falling. I do remember the hard hit—life moved at an incredible high rate of speed.

I died in 1981—the month of September in Lewistown, Montana. Sharp heart pains put me under a large light with instruments measuring every move my soul made. I stayed in ICU forever only to learn, they could never figure out why my heart stopped on that cool September night.

I often can’t see what’s in front of me—I spend way too much time turning around. The wind may change but not my steps—toward the sun I walk into tomorrow. Constantly, I prepare for the longest walk. But, I never know what to do. What will be done with my footsteps? Shall they fade into the sand? The wind turns sand into glass to be shattered somewhere on the forested floor. A shard cuts into the soul of a passerby—no blood is taken, nor is there pain to be expressed… they like me, will be left alone, to constantly be learning.