Make all the most of this, my friend
For all you know will pass
Your kith, your kin and even you
Will sink beneath the grass
Your hopes, your dreams, are meaningless
When death knocks at your door
And all you’ve made will fade to dust
And scatter on the floor
So make this world your opus, friend
And shape things for the best
And bring your matters to a close
When you’re put down to rest
Make sure that when you’re dead and gone
You’ve done all you could do
For those that did not have the chance
That you’ve stumbled onto
published in print in Poetry Potion 2013.01 On Being Human