legacy

what transient fates have we
that all is but a (momentary) dream
and tomorrow rings bells in an apathetic tower
to impregnate heaven with the clamor
of a brazen mob crying for
ashes and dust
ashes and dust

so we look to the western sea
where drowns the sun in maxims
like anesthesia for our bleeding souls
that were cut and sliced at birth
and drain until we are no more
than photographs and memories

we say: no time but now-time
life is short but sweet if savored well
eat and drink and laugh and spend
and break and burn and waste

little wonder why our posterity
hastily peals the bells