There will be Time to Mourn After the Party’s Done
Entranced by our Shadows
ever-turning trying to catch
The Source flickering bright
Illuminating yellow daisies
a shaft of clear light amid white blossoms
audible puzzle of carpenter bees guarding
doors with their bravado and false menace
How absurd he says
to think the Heavens are bound
by the arc of brow and skull
When the Work is over
let us rest with celebration
Amrita drunk
from a venerable
ancestor cup
laudable and agreeable
as anything fully done
Let no-one compose epitaphs
we remain unnamed seekers
The party in the tomb should
burst forth with fire and fury
laughter and abundance
Mourners dancing naked at their discretion
succumbing to flirtation giving voice
to primal Denial screaming
Yes and again Yes
Let them Wake astonished to be alive
Let the busy party of rot and rebirth
riot in its quiet harmonious pandemonium
and ignore the well used corpses
Building instead a funeral pyre
For All Regrets and sing drunken songs
by the crackling darkness blending fire
and deny by example original sins
Amen.