I am just trying to leave something behind.
I tell stories and stories that remember our kind.
My future is certain.
My past is a curtain.
The ghosts, they follow my signs.
They’re certain the people will forget my mind.
They know that the person is showing us ways.
They know how society fill up the days.
There is more to be said than the work and the sorrow.
Humanity searches for answers.
And none are the stuff made by poets.
Our unity will make or break this long voyage.
So read all the poems or stories and books.
I will send you good memories of people.
The kinds that aren’t often on hooks.
The kinds that were found in the “steeple”.