In Our Hearts: Legacy

In Our Hearts (Legacy) When we lay you, gently, in the most glorious mahogany box. And you are borne high on shoulders of six pallbearers. When we march, lazily, like a pack of starving school children, dressed in black robes and red eyes and pale faces. When we keep you at the mild mercy of new neighbours - rude maggots. And tuck you neatly, gradually, in heavy blankets of sand. When we give our tribute in teary visions and saggy tongues When, one by one, we leave our roses on your eternal bedroom and leave reluctantly, one by one. When we visit you in three days, and rinse your grave again - with unrelenting tears. Will that be all? Tell me. I beseech thee, tell me. Will that be all? Shall we mourn you for two weeks and forget you for two millenniums - forever? Or don't you know? That it is not of massive funerals, nor is it of costly coffins. Nor of elegant cemeteries. Nor of giant gravestones. That it is not of loud, noisy obituaries; and it will never be of a thousand gathered vanities. But, of the golden memories painted by your noble finger on the canvas of many hearts. It is not of the man that slept, But of the silvery legacies he hung high like chandeliers, like calendars on the walls - of our hearts. So when we lay you, gently, in the most glorious mahogany box. Will you rest six feet below this ground And at the same time, A thousand feet above this ground, Up, high on the pinnacles of our cosy hearts. Will you?