The obol is a sign of stillness,
how did I come to lie in state,
evidently, the ferryman knows.
Objections to the rule of law
based on nature and gravity
occasions a sense of profound loss,
levity cannot raise enough laughter.
In this dark foreboding place, I sleep
soundly without a peep, nor a breath.
Ask the ferryman for I cannot.
Sleep like this comes once in a lifetime
if even then for time slowly lengthens
given I am too old to notice
needlessly how time bends with pain.
Old age is not how I ceased to survive,
forgetfulness occurs in this place.
Slippery, the wet rocks covered with moss,
transformed into a pale shadow
in this holding cell for those who wait,
little is known, where we are going,
little is known, who is in charge,
not the translucent man in the robes,
even though he seems to have been here
since the beginning of time itself,
since I have all the time in the world...
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