What shall I write upon my stone. What shall be etched forever above my lifeless body. It is not a matter to be taken lightly. Should it be an incite into my life, a beloved childhood memory perhaps. But I cannot remember any. A few words of wisdom to guide future generations. But I lived my life with no such philsosphy. A religous passage then. But I am not a religous man. I have no faith, I have no god, I have no scripture, I have no heaven, I have no hell. To me this is it. When I climb down into that whole there, there I shall remain until my corpse has rotted away and my memory long forgotten. The only thing left to keep any record of my life, the record of my death. The fewlines carefully etched into the gray obelisk protruding from the ground just above where my head will be lain not too long from today. That is why I delay the making. That is why I am of so little help to you. Perthaps this should mark my grave. Yes this monologue contains nothing more than self realization. It shows who I am, and it will show who I was.

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