Looking into the Earth
where the coffin will soon take you down
I try to imprint every grain
as this is where your body will be from now on
for the time it takes to fall back into elements
that need no soul.
But yourself are not here,
where have you gone to my friend.
Something of you will stay with me and others
until we in our turn drop dead. A chain.
Parts of what dead people were
remains in dead people to be.
Standing by a grave
never makes me feel better
about nature and the sense of it all.
On the graveyard a woodpecker
machineguns all thoughts down
that could be appropriate.
I suck at funerals, but you knew that.