The Final Journey's Truth

We journey on, our final ride unknown,

Perhaps in refuse bins like strays left alone.

Or in ambulances from the hospital's care,

With fellow souls, a graveyard's fate we share.

Upon friends' shoulders, to hymns we'll ascend,

In black or white, with floral wreaths to blend.

Or as royalty, in a garden's embrace,

Surrounded by troops, in solemn grace.



Whether in ashes or in fragrant pyres' light,

The ultimate truth awaits, in day or night.