The Final Rising

“Here lies a man
who laughed at everything,”
a speckled, gray stone declared.
The name “Ulta Mareis”
sunk into its brow.
“Even his own pain,”
a woeful voice agreed.
Faceless and gowned in black,
uproarious laughter broke through
solemnity
as they dropped their flowers.
Loudest and highest of all,
when the last rose
found its resting place;
Ulta Mareis gave his last laugh.

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