Dearly beloved, we are gathered here—date and time incalculable—to commemorate the passing of our one and only, our Everything. Taken from us far too soon, yet now at rest.
Bow your heads before the final procession of innumerable pantheons! Nursemaids to every human privation, resplendent in their finest regalia; children of a golden light scattered blue through prisms of diatomic gas. Found and forgotten in service to our vanity; recollected for this brief farewell.
Salute the march of countless devils as they pass into sweet oblivion! Scapegoats despised for every failure of human understanding—spawned in the shadows of light’s absence—spurned to the edges of every horizon. Faithful stewards of all we have ever feared to face, freed now from the shackles of our cowardice.
Sing! A chorus of babbling regale! Sing histories in the tongues of animals that learned to walk upright across the land; that forged new natures beneath a furnace of nuclear events indifferent to any language.
In the majesty of youth, carried on the backs of serpents, beneath scarab skies of chariot flame. Grown round on Mediterranean wine and African geometry, and holding as many forms as philosophies.
In the gravity of Middle-age, born again in service to conquerors: a stone tablet; flat, immutable, spreading petrifaction. Then in crisis; an orb, in revolution once more, through the Century of Lights.
In the indignity of senility, pounded post-postmodern, post-truth, past belief—flattened out again across networks—posted in memes, redacted as data to be reddited humorously… post-humanly… posthumously.
Weep! Reminisce! Celebrate! Make your peace. For our World is gone, and now only we are left.