Bury me in the forest

When I die, bury me in the forest.  

Bury me in a shallow grave, naked and full of humors.
Bury me next to a great tree, so that it may drink of me, and I may be one with it.
Bury me in mushroom spores, the colorful ones, the dangerous ones.
Bury me in thick black earth, so that the worms may have their fill.

What happens to my parts after death?
What will my proteins get up to after they’ve stopped cooperating?

Will I ever join together in song again?
Will I find my way to a new conductor?

If the mushrooms eat me, will they share me with their friends?
If the tree drinks me, will I get to live in the treetops?
If the worms consume me, will I get to travel the underworld?

When I die, bury me in the forest.
Not in a box to desiccate
Not in a fire to sublimate into nothingness
Bury me in a place where I can become one again.

And someday, when you walk barefoot on the soft, mossy earth, maybe we can meet again.