TRILOGY
by Marie Yuen
“Ashes to ashes
and dust to Dust,” spoke the preacher
As he turned away from the site.
Tear-stained faces, a sea of black
and Tired rows of boxes
Marked with stone.
Their looks frozen in time that is not,
They bide themselves, alone
To wait for the company of worms:
Nothing more, nothing less --
* * * *
So what is Man but the twinkling of an eye,
A Slim-slivered knot,
But a whirling whisp o' blue-curled smoke?
An’ his part? Why, but to sleep and to swim,
To castle and check --
And thence to Sleep again,
Nothing more, nothing less --
* * * *
“There is nothing in nothing!” thundered Lear.
Nothing ‘cept sorrow and discontent.
Thence needs us stretch
Heavenward
For mercy and grace,
For comfort-tempering sorrow and lifelong Hope.
Reaching, not yet having reached,
We bide one’s time and company
To wait ‘til then:
This and more, nothing less!
(December, 1988)
