The graveyard moss will hold you till
Your body gives in to distortion
And worms and grubs come crawling in
To feast their stomachs with a portion
Of flesh that used to love and hate
That prayed redemtion or nirvana
That heartily believed in Fate
Or Jesus, Jah or Mahayana.
A future moment is fragile
Behold yourself, decayed and rotten
Accept your death, 'cause in awhile
Your truth and thoughts will be forgotten.
SH
February-March 17.