a flake of "Kaddish"

And you're out, 
Death let you out,
Death had the Mercy, 
you're done with your century, 
done with God, 
done with the path thru it
Done with yourself at last
Pure
Back to the Babe dark before your Father, 
before us all
before the world
There, rest.
No more suffering for you.
I know where you've gone, it's good.

by Allen Ginsberg, 1961