And why am I the one surviving?
I was firstborn; the others died
Before me, the why un-clarified,
Obscure, as always, to the living.
They left a lot of clutter behind,
A jumble of jewelry and figurines
Of puzzles and books and tambourines
And odd collections of every kind.
This is my charge, to sort and sell
The remnants of their earthly estates.
When I have done this, what awaits
Me, Heaven, oblivion, or Hell?
The Captain's Auction -- John Ritchie