Scheming Nada

We hope to be forgotten,
Lost in the incomplete sense
Of falling from awareness

Without going anywhere,
Physically as intact
As cuneiform under sand,

To be lost but not destroyed,
Ignored for generations,
Lurking irrelevancies

Available for someone
Or something some day to find,
Translate as necessary,

And bring to meaning again,
Fresh meaning, overlapping
What attention first gave us,

But not the same, more complex.
Information’s not meaning,
But it’s very hard to lose

Completely. We’ll keep quiet.
Let us sleep a thousand years,
More, two or three. Then wake us

With some wet fascination,
And we’ll swim vigorously
Who in our own time were weak.