The Obituary

He was a man

Who waylaid

The weathered steps

Of the staircase

Winding down to hell.

He was a man

So very shriveled,

He looked long judged

And proven chaste.

He was a man of Age.

He hummed a little,

Before crying again

He lay splayed

With his vessel

That jarred to jingle

With rusted coins

And finally disappeared

One day soon.

But cling he did

To his place there

Through the dawn

And night after.

Nobody knew when

Last he breathed.

He was a man

But a man long dead.

An obituary rested

On that weathered step,

As a non-existent,

Reverent absence.

And the concave silence

Of the voices that claim

Their blessings that he

May rest in peace.

But who needed them

His life would say…

The life that never

Asked for much.

He had been tested

And proven chaste,

So god bestowed

Him with the taste

Of the hell in life

As a life in hell…

So he may never lose

His way after death…