the next truth

with rare exceptions,
the dead are soon

grief is followed by
ritual &
rituals are practiced
until their cause is
lost &
repetition is their sole

what does a
memorial of catastrophe
need to remember

along its crowded
perimeter i experience
subtle forces––
the presence of
secret powers––

i weep
where the names of a
best friend &
his team are cut
into bronze––

i tremble
in the vicinity of my
long annihilated
office on

one day, i too will enter
the next truth––

as my dna un-
ravels & my
molecules set out
on new adventures––

when time lets go
of place &
energies are
released into

we will meet
& roar together
in the non-existent halls
of valhalla––

impossibly conscious,
utterly free