The Funeral – HEG George

Respects have been paid 

by those with good manners 

and by the mawkish with 

restrained curiosity 
And now, I sit in a chasm of nothingness. 

Raging seas crashing from my eyes, 

whilst salty rivers run from my 

nose to the tip of my tongue 
My day is slate grey with 

nimbus clouds abroad. 

And my ambivalence riles 

against a once merciful Being 
No longer registered are the passing 

differences between the sun and moon 

or the advancing hours of a stagnated clock. 

Gone are my reasons for either 
I have become Omega, last of my family. 

And now I sit, beneath a canopy of pain. 

Waiting for her whisper. 

Oh, dear God. Let it be soon.

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