Dazzling

The Perfect Age

In passing the Necropolis, I am struck
by the acres of angels and stones which stand
for the dead. Every time I pass them by,
so they remain. Once you're dead, it's forever.

I have envied the dead their safety.
Perfected by somebody's memories,
they lie deeply, well beyond blame.

I have envied the dead their lives
led in simpler times, when god was still real
and the skies held available heavens;

I have feared the dead; their lives,
so briefly important, a flare of years
then the future extinguished, as will be mine;

and I have faced the dead,
tried to embrace the dead,
it's our fate, to be dead, but not yet:

I am here, and now. It's the perfect age,
because once you're dead, it's forever.