Lax

The mourners wearing black, standing in black, in a sea of black,
Under the black sky and below black umbrellas.
The black rain falls as the brown coffin is lowered into black earth.
A black robed priest, his face blackened, steps onto the black podium.

"Today we mourn the passing of a wonderful fellow,
Who lived his life serving others.
He sacrificed himself for the benefit of those around him,
And now, he is dead.
His presence will be sorely missed, his time on Earth
Too short for his goals. May he rest in peace."

In the blackened air of blackened silence, blackened roses fall,
Each one covering the brown of the coffin and blending with black earth.
Above them the sky turned pitch black, hiding even the flashes of thunder,
As the black mourners mourn in their black robes.

When the dark procession was over, one man, in black, stepped up.
He walked to the black podium, his black robes fluttering in the black air,
Hiding beneath a black umbrella shielding him from the black sky.
With a blackened tone, he spoke,

"Rejoice! Rejoice my fellow friends, for he is dead!
Why mourn his passing when he is gone?
He has lived a good life, a wonderful live even.
We stand testament to his divine ideals and precious love,
For him to live in our memories long after he passes away!
Why mourn in sorrow when he would want us to be happy,
To live our lives like he did!
Why mourn in black robes when we could rejoice in white clothes!
So what if he is gone? Be glad you went through it, not sad that it's over."

The mourners looked at him, in their black clothes and blackened faces,
And they bent over the brown coffin laden with blackened roses,
As black earth is poured over the black rose.