I
Among the spirits and stones,
Flowers surprise softly and steadily,
Coats, blazers, sweaters and caps protect the bones
But the flying creatures around chirp so merrily
Why is it that all of us cry?
‘Tis because we long to be with them,
And we no longer care the side,
Us, with the living or those underground with them
Them. We hear their voice
Echoing aloud our names,
This is Jehovah’s* doing, not our choice,
Beware! It is your Sapien mind playing petty games
You merely believe a world flame
Could bring about events gone and those in due,
Even EL Diablo* believes in God
But what does that make you?
II
The Requiem stands there; not in complete silence,
For, the originators*, kin and the paramour* weep,
While deceivers, phisers and the wicked pretence,
Pretence to feel the feels of the mass in heaps
The mass is well aware, yet still prays,
Not in their hands whether he relishes or burns,
And so the Almighty orders his spirit to be raised,
Dust thou art and to dust thou must return
He abandoned his body, his physical self,
Among the gloomy crowd,
Invokes memories, O’ his table, his bed, his book shelf!
All objects, once his, now we must endow
Weep not, O’ weep not thee!
For although he is surely not no more,
But, because to be absent from the body,
Means to be present with El Ghibbor*
