How long ago was it that you last died?
You can’t even remember her funeral
White lillies had held the casket
Your god had held his own hand
Meanwhile gravestones line up in our backyards
Mellow rows in all regards
Every one engraved only with our names
Saying nothing of the way it maims
But we’d be lesser selves without the passings
They make for grand stories of existence
Anyways life has a habit of returning to you
All it asks in return is that you wave to old selves
To those versions of you in the garden
Do you remember now?
The shadows that hold your hand
Do you feel it now?
The debris that makes for your pedestal
I know the past is in the past
But so am I.
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