grief already cloaks psyche of mine
the sole brother of an older sister
hopefully out living our late mother,
who lived to the age of sixty-nine
awaiting verdict,
hence the following morbid words I outline.
Cremation nsync with donating viable major organs
quickens reincarnation without taxing cemeteries
housing skeletal remains.
First a couple definitions more so for self clarification, but also edification for anonymous readers.
Coffins and caskets take between to break down, depending heavily on the material (wood vs. metal) and environmental conditions like soil moisture, pH, and oxygen. Wooden caskets (pine/oak) often decompose within 5-10 years, while sealed metal caskets (copper/bronze) can endure for over a century.
A casket is a rectangular, typically four-sided, hinged-lid container used in North America for viewing, transporting, and burying or cremating a deceased person. Unlike tapered, six-sided coffins, caskets often feature luxurious linings, handles for carrying, and are made from materials like wood or metal.
Each birthday brings me closer
to ineluctable, inescapable, inexorable... demise,
a melancholy them yours truly doth exercise
whereby I gently (albeit mentally) Italicize
soon yours truly will wrestle with mortality
impossible mission to challenge grim reaper,
also known as Thanatos,
(the actual Greek personification Death)
in Greek Mythology
cuz she/he who will optimize
transmutation of once
garden variety living flesh to visualize
absolute zero breath
roughly approximated every night
when yours truly
lays his head down to rest.
As an atheist,
I accept consciousness of self
(and/or free) will to surrender existence
via one last breath by dint of senescence
or cessation by self imposed choice,
(especially instances involving euthanasia),
where terminal illness(es)
ofttimes promises prolonged
agonizing, festering,
kickstarting, officiating, reprehensible
physical unbearable red zingers),
hence tis fitting and proper
to accept said unavoidable life sentence
given at birth asper ultimate death,
although approximation surmised
when termination of existence limned
in-sync viz keen awareness of mortality,
the dogmatic, electric, fantastic... human body
consigned to house solely lovely bones,
no matter constitution trimmed
to optimal health,
there doth not exist means
to graft eternal longevity and belie
escaping descending into maws of oblivion,
thus impossible to outwit curse to die,
thus necessary yet painful task to accept
with stony silence grave fum foo semper fi
exhibited courtesy garden variety generic guy
especially when joie de vivre
instills this once gun shy
now grown sexagenarian chap
to utter a friendly “hi”
to an anonymous passerby,
this self-induced exposure
re: gestalt therapy tests comfort zone be
cuz, a rush of sheer delight arises
when being amiable, civil,
and exuding Noah Dee - Mand,
but simply reveling
in the infinitesimal linkedin union,
and tis also free
with an asset
to impact positive repercussions
toward those in near proximity – hee
haw, this euphoric after effect,
when a complete and utter stranger
pleasantly reciprocates and doth smile
and possibly even surprises her/himself
blurting out a verbal greeting, a trial
most unknown pedestrians
seem taken aback,
when a spontaneous impetus to while
away my consciousness aware
that nobody escapes “stay n alive”
the recurrent refrain
courtesy of the Bee Gees,
who set disco afire in every drive-in
and dance hall, whence a brief dalliance
from hated grim reaper truncated wish to jive
until some indeterminate date
of particular choosing,
one would forsake the live
wire coursing across the River Styx,
thru each master fully baited cell
to relish (hot diggity dog) and strive
to maximize the transient personal foray,
when corpse eternally resting in peace
a random fluke of seminal fusion,
where no renewal sans
the chronological leave
essentially forks over beating, mating
and throbbing heart ceases,
where survivors grieve
aware corporeal essence
undergoes decomposition,
and recycled, unless one doth believe
in afterlife, which no challenge made,
yet for me, one generic mortal
thine molecular matter slipped back
into mobius feedback fruit loop
becoming fodder
to sustain other organic matter,
yet I will never know
if thee cellular composition of yours truly
will enrich soil on does scoop
and/or atoms of mine indistinguishable,
where madding crowd doth troop
wherein bajillion microbes
of corpse relish fancy feast
(if one adept to hear vocalizations),
would be analogous to indigenous tribes
as victors voicing war whoop.