When we pass all that will be left will be dust and bones. This ribcage bursts with life, a reminder of the things we shall become after death. Our cathedral window is flanked by angels of death, grinning down upon a night sky teeming with the glow of long dead stars and the brief lives of mayflies. Space and time are still in this space; flowers open and bloom, finches and songbirds flit and struggle to be released. The dangers of vice and violence linger below, an oriole wonders when do the predators become the prey? A child holds up a manifesto imploring these intruders to leave what life exists here to run its course. A monument still glows, crumbling into the floor…all things of flesh and impermanence returning to the earth.