Immutably Alive
by Odin Roark

To die of empty purpose
To feel one’s last breath
As if extermination were bliss
The closing of vacuous life

How sentient the passing for some
Where remnants of consciousness
Forever etched in a canvas of choice
A poem
A letter
A painting
A symphony
Drifts not into oblivion
But remains attached as awareness

So gratifying for some
This departing option
To know living depended not on
Accumulated material’s decorative identity
But nurturing the heart and mind’s
Consummate potential

Could it be
Living a life of imaginative risk
Not only empowers deepest healing
But defends spirit against desolation?

Enigmatic
Some call it
Others frame such mindfulness
As deliverance from false reality
Accepting neither mortality’s curse
Or eternity’s promise

Intrinsic to Nature’s grand design
Creativity’s essence knows no limit
Keeping its ultimate purpose
An ever-challenging mystery
Immutably alive.