in the race of life with no finale
while we kept on the track of the pace
our picayune is what some hankered for

in the dreams of life with scary monsters
pounding souls jumped & soothing solace soothes
some men still cheers for our audacity

gone were the days of felicity
& gone were the nights of soporiferous rests
we heard to non but triumphed calls

the names written on the poetry rhythms
are the amusements of arts
and the unseen cynosures

a day will come the names we bear
will be written in the better known chronicles
to be read by the ones we left behind