Whitened bones

When I am dead - I tell my friends - 
I want to become the rain. 
I want my body to be laid in a meadow 
where rain never stops pouring. 

I want to lie on the grass - and forget - 
forget the world and, then, myself. 
I want to melt into the drops. 
Have no more human consciousness. 

So, when I am dead, I want to become the rain. 
Cells dislocating, body dissolving. 
Nothing but whitened bones left, 
and my soul in a thousand droplets.