Untitled - July 11, 2002

The connection 
that holds the soul
within this world
is neither love
nor money;
but that of the memory;
once golden in happiness;
then silvered in age;
until all that remains
are faded shadows
of what once was.

The depth of the times past
are the anchors
that hold a life lived
in reverence and solemnity.

Memories created
in both life and fiction;
living onwards in words spoken,
pictures taken,
and occasions that were 
the high/low points of life.

The passing is hastened
in this time,
by the gradual disappearance
of the milestones
that marked a life;
no pictures remain,
nor many words remain,
until the whisper of a name
is all that is left
to connect
between
this world
and the next.