No libretto, words nor holy mass
Motionless, timeless as an ice-covered lake
Functions faded, died, he is cremated
As clouds evaporate into the blue heaven
So his dust particles now dance in the sun’s rays
I loved him dearly, nurtured by the years
A fabulous, fond, forlorn friend
His patience, listening, his jokes
Like glued soles, so we bonded
Sustained and enriched by every encounter
Yet his remains are scattered somewhere
Ever restless, moving with the whistling wind
While I am visited often by his vision
I can almost hear his rambling voice
A living, loving, liberated ghost teasing my mind
Yet he lives on within each of his friends
“He is now dust,” you say
“Yes, dust from which all mankind is shaped!”
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