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Obsequial Ode

Surely you've trodden straight

To the very door!

Surely you took your fate

Faultlessly. Now it's too late

To say more.

It is evident you were right,

That man has a course to go

A voyage to sail beyond the charted seas.

You have passed from out of sight

And my questions blow

Back from the straight horizon that ends all one sees.

Now like a vessel in port

You unlade your riches unto death,

And glad are the eager dead to receive you there.

Let the dead sort

Your cargo out, breath from breath

Let them disencumber your bounty, let them all share.

I imagine dead hands are brighter,

Their fingers in sunset shine

With jewels of passion once broken through you as a prism

Breaks light into jewels; and dead breasts whiter

For your wrath; and yes, I opine

They anoint their brows with your blood, as a perfect chrism.

On your body, the beaten anvil,

Was hammered out

That moon-like sword the ascendant dead unsheathe

Against us; sword that no man will

Put to rout;

Sword that severs the question from us who breathe.

Surely you've trodden straight

To the very door.

You have surely achieved your fate;

And the perfect dead are elate

To have won once more.

Now to the dead you are giving

Your last allegiance.

But what of us who are living

And fearful yet of believing

In your pitiless legions.