Black Sextant

Another family gathering the place is packed with deep blue sadness for the passing of yet another friend. Faces are strained to the edge of recognition. pretty bouquets garnish a garish metal basket holy man staggers to capture the soul of a stranger ancient chants spraying salt over those that remain. Like a game of she loves me she loves me not life is plucking off sweet petals one by one Next time we gather there'll be one less this puddle of infinite blackness reaching the beat of the heart's sextant Tossed off course, losing all sense of direction and will continue to do so until I'm unblessed.