Palimpsest Poem by Adelina Amare

Life is a palimpsest.
Every moment that passes replaces the past,
Though traces of it still remain,
But they will not always last.

Often times they are buried with us in our graves,
But for some, traces of who they were blow on the breeze.
They are gathered up and put together
To recreate their narratives lost to Time's greed.

After you are gone,
I will hold on to your manuscript For as long as I can.
I will tell your story to the world,
And hope it will be passed down over time from hand to hand.
You deserve to be remembered,
You deserve to blow on the breeze,
And not be lost
To Time's horrible greed.