The right of everyone to turn to dust
Is one which nature grants unto us all
Regardless of our nature. She is just,
Pursues equality. And when the call
Of death we hear, we know that though we sigh,
And think of all we love and leave behind
Yet peace is the assurance that we'll lie
Forgotten for eternity and blind
And deaf and unaware of those above
Who seem to like to seek and find us out.
For we're not bits of history to love,
Not future relics of a bygone age. I doubt
The future really needs each small detail
Of our lives, posted on the web and out of scale.
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