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Scattered Graces

May the great unknown emptiness
Dwelling in between the pressed glass plates of cathedrals
Deal with us as it sees fit,

And please help us to remember,
That people in other cars
Really can’t hear our thoughts;
Though we can never convince ourselves of this.

And also to remember,
That our deceased relatives
Won’t be one bit more dead
If we throw out all that useless stuff
That they thought of as treasure;
But which is really mostly rubble.

I ask all this in my name,
Since I seem to be the only one around.