Who cannot remember the deep incision
Of the first death, of the telling that all things living
Will die and follow in a parallel universe,
Up above the clouds, up where all is wonderful.
But all was wonderful all the time
Down here.  

You sensed it might be so.  No matter:
You will be the one who lives forever.

The years passed.  Grandparents die.
The holy men sing over the coffin.
They told you not to doubt the lord.
For a time you didn’t.
Then there were no dinosaurs in the holy books.
You lost interest.

So you reach that prime-
People pass along the way
Blessed are those who have good cards
And live another year, and another.
Death was always to fear, but not too near.

At last hair turns white and eyes sink in-
You remember again the first death,
As the friends and family vanish.
You consider the prophecies
In the silence of your memories.
You have reached a certain state of being
To fully comprehend
Your place among the obituaries;
How you are no different from the tree
In the happy silence of a blossoming.