We are Mrs and Mr Hazard's children
Made of dust and shaped in genes
We have no real choice in life
But to be born, live and die
And then mixed again with dust.
Everybody "lives" after life is gone
In the people's souls and thoughts...
We really die and gone forever
When all the people known to us
Are themselves a hand of dust.
We need to struggle all our life
To leave a little useful trace
In the history's unfinished book,
The single thing that lives forever,
As long as dust and genes exists.
by Gabriel Ditu