Mort’s Place

Here’s the immortality you get—
Fixed identification with death.

Causation’s a fiction, but there are
The necessary antecedents—

That is, this will never come again
Unless this or that comes before it.

Death is just such an antecedent
For actual immortality—

Whatever lives on of you, your self,
Traces of your unique awareness,

Can’t emerge until after you die.
Any immortality that’s left

Will inhabit an indefinite
Span of fragmentating existence—

Bardo, Limbo, post-mortem taverns
Where the dead are allowed to mingle,

Will welcome you with open echoes
Of all the other calm immortals.

Outside, it’s flat desert or open
Ocean to the horizon, but here

Crowds of ancient personalities
Mingle with the newest revenants

All just beginning to realize
They’ve been visiting here all their lives.