Ceremony, like death, is all around.

Ceremony is life’s material;

Omnipresent but always elusive.

For some it never happens. We spectate

And drool, and press our face against the glass.

Hop on a bus. Look out of the window.

Somebody is dressing up or dancing,

Saluting an old war memorial,

Or chasing a ball in their sweat-soaked whites;

French kissing, or cracking so...

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The Rose opened its heart petal by petal

unfolding its virtues to the naked eye

You opened your heart page by page

unfolding your virtues to my soul

   even sealing it with a loving kiss

   on that fateful day

It was only to last seven weeks

until your gun was pointed at my head

the double barrel between my eyes

you hated the concept of equality

slavery was your ...

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