The Uptake of an Underling

He was an undertaker,
so he had gotten used to taking it all in,
but this was enough to put even him back in his bed,

and even he,
he who walked the blades of grass in these cemeteries
each and every day
seamlessly,

even he,
who had pressed his soles into the soil,
to make sure it was worthy of its new resident,
to be certain it was not just a mess,

even he,
even he could not bear this deadly lullaby,
for even days ago,
it did not belong to any of us,

And so quickly,
we go from fulfilled to heartbroken,
we go from lucky to lonesome,

because there is nothing else for us to be now,

we are with and without purpose,
we are with and without what made us dream,

Once,
we unlucky lucky ones walked around with our minds,
with our lungs full of breath,
talking about the demise of our imaginations,
and then the death of our childhoods,

And now,
we speak few and far between the passing minutes,
and certainly not of that---