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Too Wise to Listen

Do you still remember the tales from the dead man?

His long depleted anecdotes
Crying out to shed some meaning in our present days
Young, dismissive 
We tasted life’s impending glory without ever considering the reality of our own dust defined flesh
Yell now, shout your stories as the wind whips up
Maybe the youth will be wiser to taste the morals of our existence 
But surely they won’t
In the end we all climb the mountain 
never wondering why the corpses turned away from the summit 
Until the wind finds its force again
And shatters our bones with our ink-fragile memories
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