Although trash rules above you,

Know that under their outer appearance,

Their soul is rotting,

Deprived of life.

The dead, they walk among you,

Though no fire burns within.

Their outer shell, walking instinctively,

According to what they've been taught.

There is no question in their eyes,

No rebellion,

There is only acceptance of what is,

Of what is, the limitation depriving them,

There is no question in their eyes,

No imagination.

To the living,

Though these people may rule above you,

Though these people may dictate how you live your life,

Gallivanting forward,

With the knowledge that their way comes first,

Though these people may block the way forward,

Know that to the living,

These people would soon be like the apple in your fruit basket,

For you to eat as you please.

Know that they are simply sustenance.

They are the stone you step on to rise higher.

Do not mourn for their loss,

For the dead have no possessions.

They are the tree you cut down to build a home.

Do not praise their sacrifice,

For the purpose that was given is their blessing.

Their time has passed,

They live no longer,

Though they flow like a river,

Changing the landscape,

They are dead.

But by the grace of god,

The living may rise once more.