The Quick and the Dead

Dead, I am teleported
out through time and space, courted
by the stars who make advances
with advanced displays of dances
choreographed in light.

Then looking down,
the dancing done: my funeral
in funereal glow
extinguishing the brilliance
of an hour or so ago.

But no, not so, I tell a lie -- 
not interment or cremation,
but creation's celebration at my wake.
The two collided somewhere --
down there...
I guess between 
the host and salmon sandwiches --
and on the way to somewhere else,
I do not doubt.They fused,
I'm told, 
in one great whiteout.
Completely blown off course.

It was my choice to come,
to see. I had to see, to know... have
always wondered, but...
it's exactly as I'd wished, but couldn't tell.
Every one is there. All present 
and correct, as ever were.
All together. No outpouring, no great stir.
The stars as individuals - as mourners,
if you please -- have begun to shine again.

seducing those I've left -- or trying to...
but even so...
everyone and everything 
as I remember them. 
And no great do
but just as they should be. 
So very right and proper --
so disappointing to the wayward likes of me.