Driving by a boneyard br in January, I see winter sky br naked trees & br bare stones, row on row br marking time br marking lives... br br Cold air br the breath of graves br carries voices of the dead: br They cry out in silence, br like Hamlet's father's ghost, br 'Remember me.' br yet all ultimately forgotten. br br Long after bones have br returned to dust & br mute stones crumbled by aeons br They still utter their voiceless cry, br 'Remember! ' br & no one hears br no one cares br br & still seasons change br sun rises & sets: br grasses grown long br wave mournfully br with winter's breeze br obscuring the ruined stones br br & only ghosts' ghosts can hear br the plaintive cry, br 'Remember me' silently mouthed br by dry dust & scattered molecules br for all that lives must die br & all mankind br of great or humble birth br must submit to the catholic br & inevitable workings of the earth.