I stood silent by the graveside
As four distinct parts of me -
My ego, intellect, pride and conscience -
Came to pay their last respects
To the remains of Zina
… My capricious partner.

My pride would have none of the sentiments
As he watched in silence
Indifferent to the sight
Of the descending coffin.

My intellect was responsible
For organising the proceedings
And he meticulously ensured
That all due protocol was observed.

My ego, however
Was chained to a tree by the graveside
As he detested this show of weakness.
My conscience, though, was unusually sad.
And on beholding these scenes
He’d occasionally swoon.

I watched with a keen eye
The heterogeneous gathering
Careful
Not to interrupt the proceedings.

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”
Said my pride
As he read out the sermon.

“What will be will be.”
Retorted my intellect
As he threw in some soil.

My ego swore, however
Not to touch of this soil
Lest his fingers be smitten by fire!

My conscience stepped forth wearily.
Unable to throw dirt on the coffin
He cried out aloud:

“You simply cannot do this!”

On uttering these words
My pride and ego instantly turned into smoke
And billowed into the air!

My intellect stared in wonder
Perplexed
At this strange occurrence!

And as I hid behind an almond tree trembling
I watched the coffin slowly rise
And as the lid creaked open
… The Ghost of Zina floated out!