There was this thought I had
While reading history today
A chart with many men
Who lived at such and such a day
They were just numbers on a page
A statistic for me to read
But they had been forgotten
For doing no worthy deed
But had they really truly not?
Was there life such bore
And so empty to us all
That they should mean no more?
They were not generals
With great medals on their chest
Or mighty orators
With voice inside their breast
They did not lead an army
Across some great sea
Or design an invention
To aid the life of you and me
But are they truly nothing
But a number on a chart?
Was their life so devoid
With nothing in their heart?
They are all lost to us
We do not hear their stories
Of their personal battles
And testaments or glories
But there is something there
Between the numbers on their stone
A life from start to end
That's pricelessly their own
Every day they may've gone to work
Or been the lover of a wife
And toiled in obscurity
For a lost and voiceless life
I do not read about them
In this now latter age
They are only numbers
Among the noteworthy on the page
But then I can't help but think
How many more there are
In my own life it seems
That will never be a star
My grandfather is dying
And no one knows his name
He is everything to me
But never will have fame
And how many are like him?
Walking on the street
That in a history book
You would never meet?
Are they to be lost
In the coming of a time?
Or only sometimes remembered
Like in the stanzas if this rhyme?
I can't help but shiver
To think this might be true
Of many, many millions
And maybe me and you
And so I closed my book
And gaze at the world outside
Perhaps someone should know them
Perhaps it's time I tried
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RandomThe title really says it all, guys. I'm blocked. I've been trying to write more for the last four or five months and the farthest I've gotten is six or seven chapters. Right now I'm in dire straights and need to just write. In doing research, they...
