Dust To Dust

He doesn’t remember his great grandfather who passed away when he was five He can’t recall the wooden heart he painted in a kaleidoscope of colors that his father helped him to place carefully in the casket His developing brain at some point over the past decade determined the record of that day and of the man himself he'd hugged before leaving the hospital when last he saw him alive who had existed on this earth for eighty one years to be dispensable superfluous It doesn’t matter who we are mendicant or movie star Someday no one will remain who retains memories of us It is not only our bodies that decay into dust