The Daunting Shadows

What do these offspring see
When they read their words,
Study their ancestry?
Does the breath of the man long gone
Reflate their lives,
Give them reason,
Give them better blood to live?
Are they awed by such fame, such
That they stare at some
Black and white photograph
Trying to penetrate the
Of long dead eyes?
Do they rub the glass
In superstitious lust
Pleading for some spirit to come back
With talent, with genius, 
Haunt their blood and give
Their lives some worth?
Do the dead ones tower so far up
Above them cowering in the
Shadow of greatness, in the
Thin ignominy of the present,
Of their present worthless existence,
That they huddle in dark spaces
At the wall's root,
Dwarfed by shadows
Daunting them?
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