I am not afraid of death

But I am terrified

Of being forgotten.

 

A calm in the loss before

You go clean and good

Smooth skin bronzed and wrinkled, old,

 

Alone.

 

Exceptions are remembered

But who are they now?

Certainly not us.

 

We will cease

And another 7 billion will take our place.

More informed, deserving.

 

Afraid as the past

We will then inherit.

The pure conclusion

Of the future

Where these words

Go to die.