ThEnDance (Sort of Dead)

”The dance at the end
Our memories and genetics – will they transcend?
What’s left of the impact we leave behind?
The matrix of life – does it fully unwind?
How are we then able to know?
When death reveals its face – do we all glow?
The insatiable hope that our actions aren’t in vain
That we’ll find a storage facility in some Human brain
Our lives are all but smoke cast into the air
Wishing to be smelled by the nose of those that dare
A compatible willingness to be remembered by the spices of our scent
Various pictures of our taste set aside as a tent in one’s mind
We all long to be remembered with a nostalgic bind
Experiences, memories, and our written history are the makeup of our lives
The dance floor is where we release – our collective archives”