By Steven Wade Veatch
I find a quiet place in the museum gallery,
away from the footsteps of visitors
to think about the past and the passing of time.
The world, as it once existed, is gone,
though traces of it are here.
All I can do now is wonder
and open my imagination to recreate a world
I will never experience but begin to see.
I look at the artifacts of people who lived
in those long-ago times and wonder what happened to them.
Everything here is a memento mori for me.
Although the people no longer live,
their artifacts still exist.
I feel their past by proxy.
It is my chance to know them.
They have something more to say,
and I am listening.
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