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An omelette of the dead - also a story

The dead narrates its past
Reads a eulogy - a shocking scam
And witnesses speak of no returned favours

We don’t know where the dead are
So they become a laughing stock
The dead are not coming back and there is no reason to lie.

So what else Is there that will come back to enlighten an existence?
Maybe nothing if not hopelessness to verify the post modem...

These may be of the man-made reconstruction
Anticipation of the natural phenomena
With tropical aliens who have evolved in the scheme of absurdity.
———-
I was awake then suddenly it became dark as my eyesight became weaker but I could hear the winds splashing against the window sills.

For a moment it seemed like the breeze was sipping in to smooth me as the sounds made noises that made no sense to me. Then the heart slowed down and all I could see were shadows of disaster and some angst of the life I had lived.

In my slowness, I kept wanting the scenes to flash that did little good for my contribution. Wishing it would revert to obscure events and as I lay unconcerned to wipe out the scene or fast forward some incidents that needed no security since I was left hapless.

The candle that I lit was smacked with the sipping wind that was about to bathe me one last time but the candle extinguished without me knowing my last birthday ...I was shut off all visions, memories and everything else. I lay without purpose, corporation or the crowning of a fitting wreath.
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