The Inner Circle

I've learned to deal with funerals. They celebrate a history both past and recent, cementing it with closure just as earth would close a grave. There's not much room for victory, despite the words of triumph in the rite. But heroes looking at the moment saw transcendence at the bedside or the battlement and drew upon resources that they never knew they had-- not I, apart, spared from the crisis, glory-drenched, that turns good-bye into transforming art. Not I, the angel guide to see the flight, cold hand in mine. It is this tiny brittle stone in shattering that marks the apex of a pathway that humanity or other walks no more. The confraternity of those who walked with them until the end, alone will understand. ~