1. But he did die that morning At 32 years old. One year younger than our Lord, Jesus Christ. 2. The modern apostles laid oily hands on his head To pass on the power of the Holy Ghost Leaving only phantoms to wander in his hair A fog of questions that journeyed to his lips How does it feel, knowing that you will be forgotten? How does it feel, knowing that you were never known? It was enough. 3. He crawled into the tomb Waiting for the shivers of ending Disappearing instead into a light It came from behind him, through the blinds of his window. He became me, watching the steady stripes of morning Emerging on the beige wall of his bedroom. The ritual of passing is done. And he is dead. There is no resurrection. - R.R. Tavárez *Photo by @trude_jonsson_stangel.