There is a silence where the town was old. Grass grows where not a memory lies below. We that dined loud are sand. The tale is told. The far hoofs hush. the inn's last light doth go...

Life lived us, not we life. We. as bees sip,
Looked, talked and had. 
Trees grow as we did last.
We loved the gods but as we see a ship.
Never aware of being aware we passed.

E. Munch