Figures carved in limestone, Bits typed on discs. History reads what it finds, Remembers what it sees. Now that even my bones are dust, You read my name, And see how strongly I loved, How weakly I fought. Unborn strangers find a need in me For more than was, Entranced by eternity, Known in 2203. What I had no speech for while living, I can tell you, being dead. History smiles on the beautifully doomed, Honorably unread, Confident of discovery.