During this cremation ceremony
I saw a little stone, a rock,
in front of me, just out of reach,
it had a blue grey shade.
The fire was not burning yet,
the dead not gone forever,
yet the mood of mourning should not fade
so someone made a moving speech
to kill the time till we could leave.
The idea was to fake grief.
From the birth of the deceased
till his departure of this earth,
all sixty-eight horrific years
were mentioned, nobel deeds were wrought.
He had been good, so we were to believe.
Yet all I saw and thought
was this rock in front of me.
We were no part.
It was the stone upon my heart.