If Vesuvius would bath me

Leave an ashy mold of life.

When they come years later

And uncover me

With slow blows of chisel

What will they find?

Liquid rock ruthlessly drinking up

Everything I know and leaving a perfect casing,

A gift wrapped for a recipient

Not yet known.

Would it even be exciting?

This man was inspiring,

This man loved loudly

And cared deeply.

This man stood up
When others lay down,

Resisting the current and by that

Being the only one

To truly know it’s strength.

Or

This man was lazy

This man hit snooze too many times

Life forgot him long before this.

This man spun in circles

Never picking a direction.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t take

A volcano for me to leave a legacy.

– Vagabond Prophet