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Reading tales about the dead

Why would they care about the legacy they left?

Do across the void we carry caring gifts?

Surely love is lost after the veil lifts.

–

In awe the way the kinder ones persist

Projecting love through the grey mist.

The others get forgotten though.

Forgotten lives of the so-so.

–

The cloudy bits I left for free.

When you go and take your memory

Leaving words to some bored entity.

A whisper ripe with ambiguity.

–

Will all the love and hope I leave

Touch my children’s children’s children’s sleeve?

Will I give storied forests or will I give scribbled leaves

Based on my disinterest in my own family tree?

–

When I fail and die

Where will my values lie?

I always felt my life was mine.

Privy only to the mind that sits behind the eyes.

–

To be better than us who came before

Is my borrowed motto at the core.

Maybe with a little swirl

Of “not everyone will change the world.”