All gone down, with their trials and problems, <br />All gone away, with their joy and weeping, <br />All have passed, with whatever they found; <br />All grown quiet now, without a sound. <br /> <br />All their importance, and all they lacked, <br />All their smugness and humbleness too, <br />All their loves, and their petty hatreds; <br />All their lives, every day seems fated. <br /> <br />All their days, condensed into naught, <br />All their nights, fled too soon to light, <br />All their hours, now distilled to dark; <br />All their daring, there remains no spark. <br /> <br />All their graves, there under the dirt, <br />All their headstones that speak of toil, <br />All their loved ones, who've moved on; <br />All waiting their spot, when life has gone.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quicksilver-4/
