The Bake Off

If you think about cremation's dusty physics

and all of what remains after the burn,

it doesn't take savants or cryptic mystics

to know there's more than daddy in the urn.

The process, after all, is quite industrial

You're not first in the oven or the last

it therefore stands to reason that we must be all

confused to some degree after the blast.

And in the end, you know, it's rather fitting –

a certain levelling, a kind of fate –

that, what remains of us should be, unwitting,

swept up into some vast amalgamate.

And thus hope lives within our roasted bones

We die; we're intermixed; we're not alone.