My father's ashes scatter in white clouds
Evanescing and gravitating
All elements condensed on the last brute particles
That are his being.

They will go, circulating
Through all the vast rhythms that sustain us
Ploughed one day into the ocean
Thrown one day later as bright specks across all the universe

Born into another being maybe
Which is no consolation
For the white dust
Is odourless
An end.