26
The Bard wrote sonnets to immortalize
His loves, preserving beauty with his pen;
Were I a poet, I might alchemize
My memories so and attempt to rend
From ugly truth a beauty worth the praise
Of poets present and those yet to come.
I am not a poetic soul, and days
Spent living strike my heart and spirit dumb.
There was, in life, no beauty worth the gift
Of immortality, and death has yet
To yield to me a vision that could lift
My soul to praising heights--so I forget.
Yet, as I push away the past to free
My mind, I hope someone remembers me.
What frightens men more than obscurity--
That threat of fading into silence when
Death descends? All men seek the surety
That even in death all that they have been
Will live on, whether in speech or the minds
Of those few friends he leaves behind. I fear
This second-hand remembrance will not find
Me worth remembering. I was not dear
To anyone who lived beyond my death
And I will be forgotten forever,
My memory extinct with my last breath.
We longed to be immortal, endeavored
To leave a mark upon the world--sublime,
Futile attempts to cheat obscuring time.
...I will assume that it's a curse
That drives me on to speak in verse.
Embarrassing, but not as bad
As other curses that we've had.
His loves, preserving beauty with his pen;
Were I a poet, I might alchemize
My memories so and attempt to rend
From ugly truth a beauty worth the praise
Of poets present and those yet to come.
I am not a poetic soul, and days
Spent living strike my heart and spirit dumb.
There was, in life, no beauty worth the gift
Of immortality, and death has yet
To yield to me a vision that could lift
My soul to praising heights--so I forget.
Yet, as I push away the past to free
My mind, I hope someone remembers me.
What frightens men more than obscurity--
That threat of fading into silence when
Death descends? All men seek the surety
That even in death all that they have been
Will live on, whether in speech or the minds
Of those few friends he leaves behind. I fear
This second-hand remembrance will not find
Me worth remembering. I was not dear
To anyone who lived beyond my death
And I will be forgotten forever,
My memory extinct with my last breath.
We longed to be immortal, endeavored
To leave a mark upon the world--sublime,
Futile attempts to cheat obscuring time.
...I will assume that it's a curse
That drives me on to speak in verse.
Embarrassing, but not as bad
As other curses that we've had.