In my travels, especially those through the western United States, I've often marveled at the petroglyphs and pectoglyphs left by the ancient ones upon cliff rocks. Were they but endeavoring to leave their mark for future generations? These markings would range from simple symbols to ghost like figures. Sometimes the imprint or outline of a hand would be pecked or printed upon a rock face. Who was the author of these rock drawings? Someone came before me, that is certain, and they left their mark.
It seems that we people who trek this earth have desire to make and leave our mark. Certainly this is apparent looking at ancient cultures. The great pyramids of Egypt are an example of leaving one's mark, as are the many pyramids in Central and South America built by the Aztec and Mayas. Who does not marvel at such ancient ruins as Stonehenge? Even at such remote places as Easter Island there are erected great monolithic structures which bekon from the past saying, "I was here!"
I wrote a poem today entitled "Happy Birthday! I Was Here". This is reprinted below:
My Birthday! I Was Here
It was my birthday today
If each year were a second
I'd have been walking this good earth
But a minute since my coming.
I still feel young yet am older than most
The mean life span being but thirty years
Probably less if one includes all the babies conceived
Which are aborted, their eyes to never see
The light of day.
Thus to the vast majority of my fellow humanity
Be they humane or inhumane
I'd seem quite old.
Why I remember when I thought thirty seemed old
God forbid the mention of living to be forty or fifty!
Yet here I am having lived more years than my father
Contemplating my own mortality
Knowing that however many minutes, hours or years I have left
I will not live forever.
Once I am gone what will remain?
Who will ever remember that I once lived?
I am not the son of any God,
Nor even a monster, real or imagined,
So why would anyone remember me?
Nor do I have any children that I know about
Not that I haven't loved.
It is sad that none shall remember me
Since I have loved so many and done much good.
Yet whatever if any cross shall mark my grave
I do not see any kneeling to pray.
Thus I hope that when I'm gone
No tombstone nor marker shall mark my passing
That when future generations look out over the landscape
They shall see a sea or trees, fields and forest
Where once I walked and left nothing in my wake
But these few scribblings
Upon paper writ and pages stacked
Saying, "I was here."
After writing and posting this poem I decided to begin this blog to make it easier to share my muse with others. You see, I want to leave my mark. Perhaps by doing more than just scribling in the sand, carving upon tree or stone, my muse will stick around to touch another's heart long after I am gone from this good Earth.
It may be of interest as to what is actually the mean life span of a human being? This varies and there are many aspects to take into consideration. There is a good review posted at Life expectancy. During the early 20th Century life expectancy was 30-45 years. The current world average as of 2009 is estimated to 66.57 years. So perhaps at 60 years of age I have a few more years left on this good Earth. Of course I cannot wait to make my mark for if one waits too long, they are gone. :-) That is the fate we all face, for surely it is very true that "death and taxes" are the only certainties in life, with death being not of life at all.
I welcome comments on this or other muse posted here. What scribblings have you made and left in the sands of time? Feel free to post a comment and a link to your blog, homepage, or other site.
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