After we die, our jaw bones go on grinning.
The skull empties itself.
Magnificent human eyes give up space
for the moon to see through.
We humans do not look away
from our own faces decaying in varieties of mirrors.
We extend a hand in welcome, even to death,
making nothing of what is already nothing.
I say that all of us will falter, all of us will kneel,
and all be left standing.
I say there is a sky, blue with diamonds, coming down over us.
There is a singing in tongues only mountains understand.
There are hands made of fire reaching out for ours.