“I saw them Lord. Eyes glazed, a vision of perpetuity Hands folded, steps slowed A procession with no eventuality No dust, no patterns left for infinity.
Bodies moved with hardly a breath Winds caught between pages bred The missal whispers All the living to be had.
I don’t pity them For this slowed down sublimity. I don’t admire them For the loss of ubiquity I don’t much like The dying remnants of nature’s dignity Hardened bones, hardened maneuvering Of oneself’s perplexity.
I don’t much like the puffy eyes, Puffy faces and bodies Weighted down in solemnity Swollen with thoughts Of ambiguity.
But the thousands Of days and desires People, sunsets Locked inside their eyes Gilded with a touch of gold Streaming for me to behold I rejoice.
And as I lifted my arms to the heavens above A gentle tug, a touch for my spirit to uphold Of the vision A procession locked in perpetuity A never ending eventuality.