As the final volume of the lungs is emptied,
The body ceases to exist
In this three-dimensional world.
Placed within a rectangular prism
To decay and return to dust.
Unless, of course, the means are there
To provide a less stark container –
Something more ornate, perhaps –
With curves instead of angles.
Size of the grave is calculated,
The volume of dirt removed.
Once the prism is buried,
There should be extra volume of dirt that
Rows upon parallel rows of headstones
Dot the landscape of the countryside.
Order is given to the dead,
Points allotted for them
Throughout the hills and valleys of our world.
Existence on this plane had ended.
The only remaining question is what lies
In the next dimension.