We hide them here, where the living
fear to tread, content with giving
their pocket scraps to those who heed,
misplacing the value of those in need.
We hide them here amidst bush and stone,
let their bodies fall and sins atone;
all men decay similarly, none exempt,
just differing markings as they are darkness-sent.
We hide them here with the same dread,
for the world of the living is no godhead.
All mourners mated by the same fear,
that we, ourselves, will be hidden here.