The lines, which led to cracks, fell into fissures

A featured tin foil ball of wrinkled face

It sat atop a feeble derrick body

Knee deep in sea and rusting into space


Decrepit, almost silent, the mottled hulk had stood

Infecting the sky in a collage of carbonizing cancer

He had stood a lifetime. Though we, with our eyes, had tried to knock him down

At last he fell, his face tracing its’ final arc against the sky

Whatever ember may have smoldered inside – at last snuffed


No tears showed in ceremony, nor teeth clinched to bite back grief

We pranced around his body, his decay in sharp relief

For they had whitewashed his image

But his soul still showed the stain

Laughter filled the crematory as we gaily cheered the flame


No veils to hide our faces

Smiles ride high for all to see

Life sprung shadows filling places

Where his shadow used to be


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