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What is left when someone goes

Perhaps they’ve passed though maybe just they moved

Was it something secret that no one knows?

Disappeared in a commotion leaving some confused

Time takes its toll on every relationship

Dividends too, though that’s not the why of friends

Or lovers, children, parents, even a courtship

Balance sheets are worthless without the proper lens

In the factory workers bring their family

Too often trampled replaced by the cult of boss

Harmless mostly, excepting for the rogue anomaly

Haunting memories like the shadow of an albatross

Gifted with authority of an assumed legacy

The why of history has nothing to do with valor

Marching atop fields of bones to feed its tyranny

Counting graves is how the victors keep their score

In the work of work we decide who we will be

The kind who are kind respecting all as their better

Or the demon in us all conniving to be free

Either way it leaves a mark time will remember

Invisible in the present to the naked eye

The tables turn when blindness turns to skill

Swearing second sight under oath to testify

The salt is past, though flavors taste it still.

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