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What is left when someone goes
Perhaps they’ve passed though maybe just they moved
It seems a secret no one knows
Disappeared instantly why we were not told?

Time takes its toll if you take the trip
Dividends too, that’s not the why of friends
Or lovers, children, parents, a courtship
Balance sheet, not the proper lens

In the factory workers bring their family
To be 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 past keeps score

In the work of life we decide who we will be
The kind, respecting all as their better
Or our demon conniving others’ free
Decide, leave 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
Salt past flavors still and always will.

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