SEPULCHER

… he died and was buried …

The passage into death no one can know

without enduring it, not even he

who knows all things. And how else could it be?

Can the one who made all things—above, below—

know nothingness? No, only in frailty

can death be plumbed. And having cast his lot

with us, he came at last to this sad spot,omb

thus, quickly wound in cloth, entombed to be.

And here, no power of consciousness retained,

no wink of complicity could pass between

Father and Son. Here only the whistling, keen

echo of emptied time and space, remained.

He died and was buried. He could see no more,

nor guess at what the future held in store.