Thursday, May 1, 2008

Thoughts after a funeral - poem from Inverse Origami

I drift east of the moon,
a vapor dispersing,
a dimension perpendicular to noon.

Call to me.
Tend me with great remorse.
I am wrapped in death's granite skin.

I have become
an over-the-counter medication
encapsulating formaldehyde in a time-release formula.

Call to me.
I will answer
with silence, in temporal immobility.

I am less
than a breeze,
a nuance of dark matter falling to a black hole of being,

to a critical mass...
Will I shriek into nova after half a billion years?

from Inverse Origami - the art of unfolding
--- Mar (Mistryel) Walker, © 1998
Puzzled Dragon Press