Celestial Palate Cleanser
A poem
Eventually, it all comes down
to the impeccable light that will shine
in the moment of your greatest sorrow —
when silence has strangled the grass,
and the water in the cups shows no reflection.
Even then, the guardians of the moss
will scatter, leaving behind
a trail of velour disappointment.
In your wake, a line that keeps growing,
for a drop of celestial palate cleanser.
Eventful as it is, the majority forgot
to mark their calendars.
The main course will be served shortly.
Τhe string quartet plays for you only,
and we might catch a glimpse of the brightest stars.
Context: I wonder, is there any difference between a funeral without anyone showing up, and a funeral with people who only attend to show off as if it is any other event?
The image inspired the poem. Taking off my glasses momentarily while browsing for images, I mistook the table for a casket.
