What will remain, when you cease to be
will be a stain in the earth no man can see.
All that love and all that fear
in an instant, shall just disappear
and your legacy, your carefully curated presence
will, in one or two generations
lose its shape, have no essence.
If you believe in something hereafter
beyond all of these tears and laughter
perhaps an echo or a vague rattling
will emerge, either silent or prattling
in an effort to avoid that loathsome lyre
or that most unwelcome lake of fire.