Eventually, I will turn to dust,
leaves will dissolve, bindings rust,
and words will not look the same.
Throughout the course of awful time
my grammar will not fall in line,
and scientists won't know my name.
Despite my simple turning pages
no one will remember the ages
when I had a legitimate claim.
Before the valley of oblivion
I'll apprehend the dull horizon
that wanders toward a timid flame.
Yet, the mysteries of eternity
have made confusion very plain.
No comments:
Post a Comment