I’m not a Pauper, so why do you call it a Pauper’s Grave. I did my bit for society, I played my part, when I was young I worked hard until I realised I was old and couldn’t do what I used to do. By then, I was only 45 years of age, things weren’t good, there had been wars and famine and everything was so expensive. I got sick, they said it was bad luck. When I was young I thought I made my own luck, but now I realise that luck is not what it’s about.
Was it fate I ended up alone in a hole, with earth thrown on top of me just like a discarded piece of rubbish. Did no one care what happened to my bones, that they would rot in a piece of unmarked ground. Not tended and respected like many others gone before and who will go after.
But what is the difference, I ask myself. I was not cared for in life and I am not cared for in death. I know now that it matters not and I am at rest, part of the earth and in the future part of the universe. That no one can change.
thenotsomightyom 