My Thoughts At His Funeral


Perspective distorts; thus shrouded in robes
Professing dreams of life, my neighbour died
In sleep. Relinquishing all assumed roles
In society, shrouded in death, he lied
On a deathbed professing dreams; his wife
In tears inconclusive, with cheeks moistened
In mirth or strife; moistened for want of life,
Moistened just, but alive; all friends reasoned
That this death in sleep saved him pain; dying
In dreams is painless; but it’s just dying.

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