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I remember my great grandmother, But I know none of the family before her. She passed away when she was one hundred and one, So many things she saw before her life was done.
How often do you look back and really reflect on what you've done. The insignificance of it all. Pointless arguments, inside jokes, funny haircuts. But do you ever wonder how you'll be remembered.
I hope you look back with fond memories Childhood laughter upon my knees I hope you never knew what it was to want And remain proud of a dad that led from the front I'm sure there will be things...
So I die My life now away And your proper goodbye Is to forget. A weak heart With much power Has caused us to part And you are mute.
Less than a grain of rice. Specks of dust. In the grand scheme of things. We are all as such. A fragment of a percentage. Of eternal time. In the vastness of the universe. Our bells barely chime.
There's a great library in the sky, And it's filled to the top with books. Each has a different author, But none can be borrowed or took.
Turn back the clock, You'll see what unfolds. Memories, stories of young and old. A man with six wives, A man with a dream. Without all these figures, What would life mean.
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted.
~When we are dead seek not our tombs in the earth but in the hearts of men~ Leave your mark upon the man. Try and catch me if you can. Not a granite epitaph That won't outlast hearts by half.
It's been said life's eternal, that deaths only the horizon, I'm a wordstress vast and free, I know what I really want to be, I feel my souls an infinite space, transient mirror image in its...
It’s a Sunday Aunty Marcia’s in the kitchen portions out the food to share Uncle Lesley passes out the supermalts While Dante and Cory running left right and centre And granddads in the corner...