she spoke to me of dragonflies
and visits from the dead, and it made me
long to hear the voices of the lost,      
those without tongue to taste the wind
or form the wistful whispers
why had I seen only a butterfly,
against an ignorantly blessed, black sky?  
its colors a magnet to my eye, but silent  
even with wings whipping desperately  
as it was ****** into the abyss  
no words issued forth    
for my eager ears, to allay my fears
that there were no messengers
from the other side, or if there,
they chose not to take flight, or
find me worthy of their sad song  
what if the disbelievers were right?  
and once we lose sight,
and fall into deaf sleep  
there is no ether where we roam,
but only the dank dark decay  
the soundless feasts of bacteria
on the hopeless host