Mimir

The egotism of my certain soul
Assures me I in some way am remembered
Perhaps in but the part and not the whole
My year of self audaciously Novembered
But some of me--enough to be quite sure
That if I tap a shoulder and say hi
The object of my greeting won't demur
Objecting to my claimed acquaintance. Why?
Because I blithely claim a certain place
Within the world, and this in memory
Naively certain time will not erase
The record of my presence. Yet, surely
I am no more than any other who
Might be forgotten. So must I be too.