Death is such a humbler...

'death is such a humbler...'
he thought
Looking at a pyre
On fire...
A pyre
By his favourite river...
Lit red orange...
'from fire we are born
And in fire we die...'
he thought
Looking at the fire...
By his friendly river...
One evening...
A breeze still playing
With his hair...
A moon like a sickle still...
Silent...
A peepul tree with leaves astray...
Falling ...
Falling eternal...
To get floated into the shiny glittering water
Of
Il fiume del dolore...
The river ancient...
The river immortal...
The river like a verse
From heaven...
The river like a teary flowing sense...

he sat...
Quiet...
Absolute...
Dying...
And
Living the same...

Far away some dots
They flash...
They stop...
They flash...
Like hyphens and dashes...

And
he listened
To the river's own song...
A song that purges...
A song that reveals vessels of gold
Of truth ...
A song that sublimates...
A song that purifies...
A song that only death white becomes...