Walkin on Air

The Abbey of Death



Stardust bespringles lofty hopes
emanating upwards
through spires and cones
catching a piggyback
lift
towards the ultimate event
belying otherwise drab
foreboding walls
and cloistered stain-glass
windows
of someone else's ghost;

silent night admits
silent sounds
from
silent souls
sobbing in disbelief
at the beauty of the sight
oh, silent night...

Gravestones slated
with
staccato data inscriptions
carrying no valid
meaning as such:
too late for contemplating
identity crisis
or say,
ancestral connections?

Gravediggers' union cards
they are,
strewn on lumpy lawns
where flowers
adorn
uncaring departed
as if their worth in death
overshadows
lamented lives lost
to throwaway
monotony of endless copulation
in the name of
Love...



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The Abbey of Death

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