I cried at your funeral.

I don’t know if that means anything to you.
If it makes up for the fact that in 23 years I barely got to know you,
Or in the two years since I moved away I barely visited you,
Or in the six months you lay on your deathbed alone I only visited you once.
I don’t think it’ll mean a thing to you now.
I didn’t cry simply out of regret or despair,
Or out of a selfish desire for forgiveness,
I cried for the epiphany of the ineffable impermanence of life.

That week I lost you I also lost my perception of truth.
I lost my optimism,
My belief in love and hope.
The day after I learnt of your passing
A relationship I believed was eternal ended.
She said she hated the way I viewed her as perfect,
That we’re all impermanent,
That my belief in undying true love was a delusion.

I sat staring at the coffin that contained your impermanent remains,
And it hit me hard in the heart
And in the soul.
I tried to hold back those first tears,
As if I could convince myself
To stop caring
And stop loving.
But we can’t fight those rhapsodic feelings.

So I wept
For those beguiled by the illusionary sanctuary of foreverness,
Those enchanted by deceit
And enraptured with falsities.
And I wept
For those enlightened to the impermanent nature of reality,
Aware of our future of ash and dust,
To whom the meaningless of existence
Has become crystalline
And all too real.
And I wept
For those epitomes
Of love and perfection
Whom have never existed
Outside of my own desires.
And I wept
For those imperfect people
To whom I’m continually drawn,
Whom I selfishly idealise
And perfect in my mind,
Whom break my heart
Every time,
Because perfection is a fantasy,
It destroys all
As it inevitably unravels.
And I wept
For my fear
Of inescapable endings
And heartbreak
And loss.
And I wept
For my fellow slaves to the imposing will of depression,
And those that despite their awareness
Of the impermanent and meaningless nature of existence,
Still fight those rhapsodic feelings
Derived of emotions we perceive as negative,
Like fear, and despair, and love.

But it means nothing to ash and dust.


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