How will they find you? In your last moments, what words will you whisper? What is the meaning of life? Will your love come through?
People go by.
And most will be indifferent. Every caloric cell in our bodies exists for the purpose of interacting with the world. What we consume directly correlates with our exhaustion. Our time here is as relevant as what we do with our hours. We are bound until we come unwound…unwind(ed), and it only makes sense when we stop trying to make sense of it all.
There are no answers…just more questions. And the unresolved conflicts have value only to the conflicted.
We get one shot till we are resurrected. The weary don’t want to be resuscitated. Even the mythical creatures don’t want to be among the undead.
Give me no surgeries. I want to die when my number is up. But only the good die young.
I’ll live forever.
In better weather…
Till death do us part.
But when WE are gone, our legacy lives on.
But I’m no MLK or Malcolm.
My blackness will be blank. My whiteness is more grey. My grey hair, once bald, will curl like my toes–quite bare.
Summer has fallen. Autumn is autonomous. December’s solstice has lost us. Spring will be sprung no more. In our final years, we will reflect on the memories once met. Our legacy will mean more to those who loved us most.
So what will your legacy be? It need not be poetry. Even lost sight can see. None of this was meant to be.