I'm walking in the cemetery, thinking all alone, twisting through the labyrinth, brushing my hands along the head stones. I sigh and see my breath escape my mouth and float away, and sit at the foot of the tree twisted among the graves. It's not the best here, but it could be worse- nobody's here- may be a blessing- may be a curse.
But I stop and look at each name, for all the poor forgotten souls.
Well we're all going to be forgotten one day, each memory destroyed by time until everything decays. And a headstone might be rock but it's got it's own biological clock. And we must understand even stone wears away though we all know stone is a thing of strength.
But who will stay to maintain the headstones?
And I trace my finger over an eroded name, Jackson? Johnson? What does it even say? There's a message below: "You will not be forgotten- Father, Brother, Friend" Well, friend we are all forgotten, in the end. As no one was here at your burial mound, I see no flowers laid upon the ground. My friend, who knows who you were, who you are- you were a collection of memories, scattered in the stars.
My friend, you were forgotten.
And I realize: One day there will be no one to remember me either, none who fight against time can be a survivor. I will fade like the sunlight as the Earth brings the new day. And one day, though Newton has made it thus far, even the memories of ol' Isaac will dance with the stars.
We are all forgotten.
Created: Mar 10, 2014wattsup Document Media