We who survive you do so begrudgingly, we the unsmiling
Like a triumph spining along the road
Lumps in throats blown noses
Family read words they wrote, tears spatter coats
Words more beautiful than merits so doleful a day, their voices did not break
But rang out in elation and sang to broken hearts
Music for him highest of arts
They spoke of boundless empathy, of unworldliness, of ere-willingness
Indeed he was transient, a being ethereal, peerless in wit and without ego.
We the devastated congregate in the church, that death be sent away
We bleed our love to you with desolation and dismay
Rumbling running engines sending tendrils skyward to high heaven
Where the dead become undying
Stone Roses songs in the church at Dundrum
Red roses crossed against a fresh headstone
He will be robed in life, as he was in life
Knife of this occurrence, night of grieving parents
Rich in melancholy’s currency coughing back tears, hissing prayoral responses
In grief’s livery counting missing years on fingertips, haunted
Slivers of aureate light swimming through stained glass, peacocking your coffintop.
Alchemisland 
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