Down, into deep obsidian,
Where feelings cease to be
Where awareness, once so sprightly blue,
Is plunged beneath the sea.
Where awareness filled with feeling
Vanished darkly to abyss,
And the beauty of a lifetime
Discontinued to exist.
Where the history of yesteryear
Is snuffed out in a trite
And the memories of something great
Are lost to darkest night.

You can argue this is so unfair
That you’ve so much more to do,
You can point out how the family
Will suffer with out you.
You can demonstrate your value,
You can remonstrate your case
You can beat your breast with passion
…But it’s all wasted in this place.

This is death, this is death
Where nothingness is king
Where yesterdays tomorrow
Is a past, forgotten thing.
The grail of good and bad do meld,
The sweetness of a song
Is swallowed up in sorrow
And tomorrows light is gone.

O were it true that holy men
Would dispense words of grace,
That the marvel of an afterlife
Would gracefully replace
The turgid mist of vacuum,
And the hiss of vacant sound
With the scintillating presence
Of  yet another earthly round?

But alas… It’s all corruption
When your day of days doth come
You must close those eyes forever friend
…..For the living time is done.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
28th March 2008