Rememberance

by A Toltecan Prince

The words go like this:

You tell me that I must perish,
Like the flowers that I cherish.
Nothing remaining of my name,
Nothing remembered of my fame.
But the gardens I planted still are young,
And the songs I sang, will still be sung.

I might not have written the poem, or epitaph, or the quote exactly, but, it's close to the original. It may not have even been a Toltecan Prince that spoke the words, or was originally from pre-history, since it came from a book of fiction. The words might have ameliorated thru the ages, and been derived from paupers superb, or the ego of someone wanting and afraid, and desperate for remembrance everlasting.

I read it in a book a long time gone. I know the title of the book, do you? What does it mean now, to you?

Ah, the beauty of words, NO, the flagrant control of words, entice our sanity and sensibility of reason. The old adage "with a grain of salt" should continuously justify what we read, hear and think.

But do we truly process and reach our own conclusions, of all that is presented to us?

Do we graciously accept the written word, here, there, and everywhere?

I question everything and I enjoy the text written here. But, I've never been able to drink enough water to counteract the sodium chloride de-dis-solution.

Opinions, excuses, and assholes..........everyone has one. I have no resolve......or bottle or water handy.