Born in this world, blessed are those:
Who with family and love; I suppose.
Born in this world, blessed are those:
Who live with friends and die very old.

Blood defines family; blessed are those:
Who belong to a branch of an old tree oak.
Love defines friendship; blessed are those:
Who aren't family but matter the most.

Born in this world; we come alone.
We live with people and then die alone.
Born in this world; blessed are those,
Who realize we're orphans or I suppose.

-The Silent Poet

Lou,
You're an orphan now.
The deciding vote
In your favor,
The good kisses,
The latent reconciliation
Linger in this thick room.
You won't need to clean chimneys,
Work in a blacking factory,
Get your ears pinched, and your **** kicked.

You've laid out a fine plaster effigy
In this cherry box;
Yet Enzo's nature is hidden:
His personal tears
And public laughter
Aren't in this demeanor
With rosary weaved into the basket of his hands.

We've polished our shoes,
So we stand and discuss
The crucifix wedged
To hold up the lid,
And how we follow our fathers' footsteps.
We knew it to end this way
With our fathers' generation.
     But you must know your father lost a father,
     That father lost, lost his...
I too am orphaned, Lou,
And we'll continue on
As orphans do.