we're the dead.
talking sceptres
giggling skeletons and monologues.
tongue is very soft & giddy.
but the dialogue follows a taut path.
we believe in the speeches we ululate:
in this world,
the choicest path is to journey to self,
to follow the vocal heart.
appease its loudest desires
and say oneday to the gods: "we kept the faith"
"...finished the course" of this unstable little organ.
and so we die babbling to the grave
dipping the mouth in many many dialogues
summiting the apex of the world’s wisdom
at our ashes we arrive
tilling the world’s monologue
gleaning from it, the glorious curtsy of men
approaching the grave,
with loud ideas about the staunch cul-de-sac
Moving into the ethereal, trusting the gospel of many tongues
renouncing the narrow path!
yielding to the many extremes of the wider road
...amusing self …
delightful souls, we are.
dying unrestrained
…slowly to the irreversible oblivion
