I stand at the base of a statue,

Of an old god long forgotten.

And I do not worship it,

For I worship nothing.

But I do admire it,

And for this I will dedicate to it my mortal years,

And if I have years beyond that, the statue may have those too.

And the statue looks down on me,

And it doesn’t worship me,

For I am not like it.

But it admires me

And for that it will pat me on the head,

And accept the years I have to give,

And it will treat them with respect.