The long lost souls now wander, bleak and tame,
Long stripped of any power, wisdom or fame,
The rich the poor, the king and pauper same,
For in the land of dead none have name.
Once they were vessals of light,
Or maybe a sun of knowledge bright,
Or they were those men of old
Of whom every tale and legend told.
Maybe they were ordinary, trying to be someone else
Those small, bright souls in a mortal shell.
But when death comes, it comes for all
And all must wither and all must fall
The mighty men and women tall
Must someday heed the reaper’s call.
So is there something that you want to do
But are held back by what ‘They’ may think of you,
Then break those shackles and do what you need.
For anything you do, is not less in deed
To the ‘Great’ works by masters of yore
To those dreary works that make wealth pour
So when you finally close your eyes
There are no regrets, in heart no strife.