Today I attended a wake and it was painful to observe.
The body is in the room and there is a heavy silent lament.
Current and past friends of the family paid their respects
Present once more at this gathering of ailing individuals.

Twelve years have past since I sat as part of this family

Concerned, anxious, troubled at the lack of intimacy 
And the large conceited gestures this group inspired.
Back then these influencers appeared invincible.



Today they look unwell meeting to re-enact what was,
As if to will it back from the dead but it is too late.
They are clearly unaware of the naked dead body
And that this is a funeral to conclude all that has led to this grave.


It is uncomfortable but joy does comes in the mourning,
It is in the Great Architects rules; death to life is the formula.
Pain can lead to a Dali-esque world of dead clocks and surreal sky
Or provoke a hunger for the life source and the release of dying to oneself.



These graveyards are full of mans works, man’s take over bid
To play God in a world already full of too many gods.
I would be God and God would be me, but covenant is only Oneness
In my consumed, dissolved and supplicated state of being loved.