Epitaph of Life

Life is not an epic adventure,

it's a small hop to your death,

maybe you'll live for a hundred years,

but you'll be dead much longer,

everything you've seen,

everything you've done,

everything you've loved,

everything you've hated,

dissolved into the earth you're buried in,

faded photographs,

yellowed paper,

an epitaph upon your rock,

your name inscribed to remind, not you,

someone of your loss,

a memory in someone else's head,

that you were once living, but now your dead,

your small insignificant life,

a hundred years after your death won't mean a thing,

unless your infamous or famous,

the life that cruises in between,

gets no recognition just a few tears at the end,

generations after your birth your forgotten,

an eternity after your death never mentioned,

your name recycled endlessly on,

faces change like a tapestry of evolution,

until your memory lives no more,