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Black dresses waved in gusts of cool wind
Black ties wrapped tightly around husky necks
Black pupils stared into a black abyss
Within this endless hole there was a man
A man who, although laying still, was very much alive
He may have been feeble, delicate, his body deteriorating within wrinkled flesh
But physical attributes were mere measures of his wisdom
Of his experience
Of his story
The man questioned
Why do they lay me within the damp, soft earth?
Why do they chant grave songs deprived of hope?
Why do they stare into my eyes without realizing I’m staring in return?
He could see his children crying with grief
He felt the tears gently slide off their cheeks and fall upon his
He wanted to scream, shout, jump and exclaim
I’m here don’t leave me
I’m here, and forever will be
But who can say forever?
For trees and clouds were all he could see now
And a bit of white light still shone upon his face
He felt warmed and comforted
Was this the joining with God they always spoke of?
No, for the light had started to fade
It became fainter and fainter
Until the wooden lid closed shut
And there was only darkness
The man could not hear
The man could not see
The man could not think
Within a ground of sprawling tree roots
And slithering worms
There lay a man.
Man who is no more.