In two separate lands lie separate minds,
disagreements veiled by assumptive snap -
to judgment, off the winds of miles.
But trust me, as you surely must,
that all of this shall someday pass,
as surely you and I will too,
but 'til that day arrives, my friend,
there should not be a second leant
to social hardware, mending fences,
broken by the shame of hubris;
for that would place great rue
on the grieving shoulders
of the one kneeling 'fore the wood of the other.
For, in the end, when our flesh turns to ash
all that will matter in the scheme of Forever
Is... who we were...what we did, and how.
And were we worthy of respect and remembrance-
by those we held in highest esteem.
And, what people will say about you and me
when they come to say their final adieus
before our boxes become earths space.
What will they carve below our dates and names
when they lay those gray stones
o'er our final steads?
Hopefully some semblance of what we'd earned
in Life, and can sleep with in Death.
© MMXIX-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan, Jr./ FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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