Walking along a river when suddenly a goose launches in my direction.  There was no intention of startling passing souls.  Cremation was all it searched for. The fire was glowing red and yellow my feet warm in the desert sand. Unknown to the lost souls gathered, smoke signals had sent for his soul. He had sad life, flying in the wind being free. He sat there by the fire and quacked his last wishes. There can be no freedom as long light pollutes our souls. We quacked along his favorite song.  As our souls gather in harmony, its soul spread his wings over the astonish beautiful fire.  Our lost souls quacked his soul.  May your soul fly high, may the smoke and ashes guide you to eternity.