As contrails spread their wispy tails across the evening sky.

The pathways of others

Are recorded,

But briefly in time.

So also does history mock the once living;

For within a short while, 

Vanish will we before the yet living -

Our tale reluctantly recedes.

Slowly breathing;

Steadily, we march on.

Although our names will never be retraced,

Let our actions be immortalized,

In those - 

The present, has yet to realize.