Grave Wax

Should we accept the natural state of desiccation after death we would move on; turned to dust and forgotten for the ages to roll on uncaringly. Better for us to betray this cruel fold fate has woven for us and decay in a more suitable manner. Time will pass, like slugs we ooze nature's slime. Our bodies become like candles, wax figurines who if standing straight up would stare back like a molded Abe Lincoln in a wax museum. The skin looks like it could be lit with a match. Yes, this way does sound nicer, much better than dust.