Contemplation now
is his daily exercise
Wondering where his life was spent
Seeing out of hooded eyes.
Did he do enough
In his time upon this earth
To leave a small impression
Of what his life was worth?
As the twilight of his days
Darkens into the night
Will he be remembered
As one who brought some light?
Or will he be forgotten
As just another one,
Who was born and then who died?
Just another wayward son.
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