I see the eyes of everyone I knew
regarding me from somewhere out of sight.
I hear their voices say something true
but I can’t believe I’ve heard their words just right.
Belief is not required, they say, for facts
like this one: what’s created can’t be lost.
Believing does not change this, nor do acts,
they say, of piety or blasphemy
that cost nothing that the truth cannot afford.
They say the cost of ignorance is mine,
that it only makes me restless, tired and bored,
but that on learning more I’ll see the line of light
that writes this message through the haze:
Death is not immortal. It’s a phase.

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