At home with my kind, here at the end of the tried life. Fading souls; different ghostly  shades all cut from the same grey rainbow. Recognized by the gaze of wrinkled eyes and dreams un-reached. We are simply accepted and never questioned. Knowing all too well that the story is longer than the goodbye. So we drink; celebrate the smoke; take it in and remember the lives of those that have passed and of those that will surpass. We’ve crossed the barrier of tears where it is too painful to cry anymore. So instead we alter and celebrate. We are your mothers, your fathers, your sons and your daughters. Show us no sadness, show us no disgust; remember sooner or later you will become one of us.