Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Requiem

How far had the body traveled before its final rest stop in this silver urn?
How many lives had it touched, sights seen, foods tasted, time wasted, sounds had it made and heard?
Is this grand finale a Bastille or a reprieve for time served in life?
And what of its companions? Empty shells unceremoniously scattered nearby?
And their souls.
Were there souls?
Are there souls for these few?

I doubt it.
They were hated and hit. They lived only for them selves.
To touch and to see and to taste and waste, and the sounds that they made and heard were their only designs in life.
But what of art and compassion and love and sacrifice. Were none of these virtues on their list?
Genocide!
Death to them all, I say!
Let them all die!
They are a bane to my solitude.


I heard a fly die as it buzzed
the web around the cup
was like a ladder hanging down
still it could not
climb up

No comments: