Free and burning

I’m a kind of joke
A ghost and fraud most of all
Not that I keep up appearances
But I question being alive at all
I beg to be eased of this burden of living like I’m independent
Like I’m some kind of secure island

I’d be happy to be a vegetable in a vegetable garden
(organic of course)
Or maybe a putrid, bursting fig
Picked, providing nutrition for some higher life form

Wasn’t I a plant before?
I faintly remember being a mineral
Being lava flow particles, smelted liquid potential

Once we all swirled together
A hot ball of fire
A star shining unison
without identity

Free and burning