Obsequial Ode

Surely you've trodden straight     To the very door!     Surely you took your fate     Faultlessly. Now it's too late     To say more.     It is evident you were right,     That man has a course to go     A voyage to sail beyond the charted seas.     You have passed from out of sight     And my questions blow     Back from the straight horizon that ends all one sees.     Now like a vessel in port     You unlade your riches unto death,     And glad are the eager dead to receive you there.     Let the dead sort     Your cargo out, breath from breath     Let them disencumber your bounty, let them all share.     I imagine dead hands are brighter,     Their fingers in sunset shine     With jewels of passion once broken through you as a prism     Breaks light into jewels; and dead breasts whiter     For your wrath; and yes, I opine     They anoint their brows with your blood, as a perfect chrism.     On your body, the beaten anvil,     Was hammered out     That moon-like sword the ascendant dead unsheathe     Against us; sword that no man will     Put to rout;     Sword that severs the question from us who breathe.     Surely you've trodden straight     To the very door.     You have surely achieved your fate;     And the perfect dead are elate     To have won once more.     Now to the dead you are giving     Your last allegiance.     But what of us who are living     And fearful yet of believing     In your pitiless legions.