Winds may manage to erase our prints off the belly of the earth, Smiles we lit on faces of people may go off, Life may even pretend to have not birthed us, Dreams we molded to create better futures may be treated as trash, Then, when death has had devoured our lives. But now is the time, Now is the time to inscribe our names, Deep in the skin of the sky, Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy, So that even when we pass, Those alive then may know that we too were here. Time and seasons will soon forget us, Even flowers in our gardens without us will go on, Friends and acquaintances we made alone will leave us to sleep, Gold and silver in our youth we picked will have new masters, Then, when death has had harvested our lives. But now is the time, Now is the time to inscribe our names, Deep in the skin of the sky, Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy, So that even when we pass, Those alive then may know that we too...
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