We breathe in the dead,
glory gone and fallen,
grey mist
silken choking dust
We breathe in the dead,
all matter is one,
all sadness ours,
all honour past.
Tapestries and walls
become dust,
forests,
green becomes grey,
breaking down,
the funeral telling the truth
but not just for man
or woman
listen, ashes and dust,
all things all things are going away
into the night, into the infinite
the infinite is going away,
into the shrinking,
not the dark, the dark is going away,
and the light.
Glory passes. And we are here,
we breathe in the dead.