When I die, they will say:

‘She is everything now.’ 
Difference is no longer in the way
The seed is covered by the ground. 
 
Age creates a delay 
You recognize the sky before the clouds 
Hurl yourself, be in the way
Do not ask them if it is allowed. 
 
Through a window pane
Childhood is found 
You throw yourself through it as you age
The glass is all that remains.