When death's thrifty summons sums my life and me, With swift erasure reckons every hope One with the all-nothing past's unborn to-be, And, dead unlived, live damned in Time's scope, 5 Then how shall my accounts accounted be? When bright expectations of my skies A crematorium become, and clouds That had impostured castles as siftless ashes die, What shall stand, howsoever soft or proud, 10 With lying life above while I do die? What besides my dog-dug bones shall sound, What clacking tongues make noise of me aloud? If only that you do not follow me too fast, I am content my small nothing shall not last.
From the collection "Nobody Poems"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.