I hope to be immortal through art.
We all end up as rotting corpses amidst the dirt-
maggots nibbling at our eye sockets and flesh
eroding off our weakened bones- or as ash
scattered across our once favorite places or
nostalgic memorials, hoping that someone cares
to remember that we are disintegrating there.
But the minute my body is laid in the ground,
or I flutter into an intricately designed urn,
I’m already disappearing from the world;
for after my love ones follow me to the earth,
no one will be left to recall and wonder about me,
and I will be a tombstone in citizens’ peripheries.
Yet when I leave my whole life on the page,
I hope my words resonate even after I’ve gone,
as I try to create words that will be immortalized
in ink and read by the future generations that long
to find meaning in my ramblings and tales of man,
to find the elixir of life left by my dying memory,
and ensure that my treasure lives for all eternity.