Marble Legacy

Sometimes we think
we'll last forever:
"Some distant day...."
the thought continues,
we'll cheat death
in some perverted way.
Or think perhaps
we'll be reborn --
get a second chance
to strive imperfectly
for some perfection, measureless,
striving for some crown
now unknown, or denied.

Of certainty
is  that one appointment:
one day soon,
or maybe later
(death is patient),
our name will be inscribed
upon the marble legacy of
grassy hillock green.
All we've known,
we've been, or said, or
even done, will be forgotten --
dimmed in memory
of all but a cherished few.

What good's a fortune,
amassed, collected,
striving dusk to dawn
to hurry on that appointment.
When we leave it lying
in hands unsure to hold,
what becomes of what we've built
by dreams of empire, bold,
after we've assumed the cloak
and lie in state,
all cold?

DWD 98