Funeral Rite

i turn back n i see no shadow,

no foot prints on the sand,

no drop of blood,

not red not black,

cul-de-sac.

i gaze..

further...

there's no trace,

there are no memories,

images are black,

no words no verse,

not even a curse.

i look for the witness,

there's none,

but one

my own reflection.

screaming of non existence

of existence,

of waiting for Godot,

of turning into wife of Lot,

stinking rot.

i run

from the reflection

into the sun

of oblivion,

i shall burn

into ashes

and there will be no phoenix rise,

'coz ashes have drowned

into the river of life,

of absolute might,

And that my friend is the funeral rite.