Ten Instructions for Disappearing

Ten Instructions for Disappearing

I. Relinquish what you called yourself at birth —

Names on leashes dragged across this dire Earth.

II. Step softly where another casts their light;

Become the string that's tethered to another person's kite.

III. Accept the shape of plans you never truly made,

Wear this second-hand coat stiched to wear for a parade.

IV. Let go the urge to matter — not in this part,

But wholly, as sand in the hourglass' deliberately depart.

V. Descend without resistance, with time, past regret;

Hit the bottom and to thyself become their own threat.

VI. Begin to question where the edges are,

Barter the weight of worry at the soul’s bazaar.

VII. Sow careful lies like seeds in careful rows —

Weave a veil to shield from unrelenting unseen foes.

VIII. Implore the sky to spare the ones you’ve clearly darkly marked,

The cock crows thrice — your footprints fade away as you embark.

IX. Conspire with your shadow, chart a secret course

Be willing to mount a dark horse and leave with no remorse .

X. Then gallop— not toward a new and brighter fate,

But vanish and leave— before this paint forgets its gait.