I Should Drink to My Own Life


What will the seekers find?
The ones who years from now
Examine my life as though
I were a marvel of my time—

Will they sift through the ruins,
Devastation from a thousand storms,
Shattered bits of clay in sand,
The remnants of my life?

Will they gently blow the dust
From my body curled in its grave,
Preserved for eternity,
Sleeping in my earthen shell?

What will the seekers find
Who peer into the past?
Is my name written inside
The cover of their family book?

Have I left them enough of a story
That they will sit back on their heels,
Gaze into the fire, and lift
A glass in memory of this life?


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