Forgotten So Soon:
by J. Allen Wilson — Read all 1,629 poems by J. Allen Wilson
Monday, August 5, 2019
Forgotten So Soon:
How true it is that our days are but a whisper in the wind.
We come, we see, yet we are like unto a morning’s fog and are done by days end.
All one has to do is to look to those who came from life afore.
Call out now their names…remember where once they staked their claim.
Yet they are not, for they are that whisper in the wind and remembered no more.
We die not once, but twice. Once when we die and when someone speaks our name for the last time .
So therefore from these ponderous thoughts on the mortality of simple man.
I can only conclude that we must love all and to this world do the best that we can.
We all share each our own internal and external strife though different in each of his own; in this whisper, we call life.
Thus from the mind of this fragile old man. I say fight, do good and what is right, for truly, but sadly, we all shall be forgotten and remembered no more. For as truth doth speak…we really are but soft whispers in the wind.
J.Allen Wilson © 8/4/2019
Your image of the neglected cemetery is so true. Even the pharaohs of Egypt, for the most part, ended up being removed from their burial chambers by grave robbers seeking gold and other riches they could pawn. But most graves simply disappear after log neglect. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Ron
thought provoking, poignant read
Never Stop Writing
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