Endless As The Universe Poem by Patti Masterman

There's a new motel for the dead
Just down the road; a not so grand opening
For the temporary visitors on their way
To the incorporeal modus operandi
And all I can think about is:
This is the very place where I will burn,
Melt, and writhe against the vivid flames-
Mouth gaping open, as if to shout
Goodbye! to the previous life.
The arms curled and bent to chest, as if busy at prayers
As the ashes slowly coalesce
From the outside, in
And the naked bones to become part of the grinding stone
For the ones who will follow later
Already there's a sickening familiarity
With the steel kitchens housed inside there
The Executioner for the already deceased:
That cold, unforgiving slab
The moment before the pilot flares into wakefulness.

But while still alive, I do penance for the one child
Who may accompany the last journey
A mere half mile or so from home;
The greasy cinders which might catch in her
Tousled hair, blow into her nostrils
On rambunctious puffs of wind,
As she goes about her days activities:
Forgive me in advance,
You, who gave so much meaning to my days:
Try to remember that death forgets no one,
That even as we pass, we die as innocents;
Dead to the past, we're become the abstract children
Of future days, in yet formless calendars.
May this plaintive vow, lessen your burden then
And so your tears; whenever you glimpse
That deceptive castle of death,
And imagine the glowing coals in its dungeon.
Remember, I am lodged inexorably inside your own cells:
We are chain-linked, stone heaped upon stone,
The same heaving breath; and may my last breath
Whisper to you, as the wind whispers,
Hovering above the nights counterpane of stars
That love is the purpose we are created for
And death will never be the end of love-
Not in this world, and not in the next one.