Are we all not really afraid of fading away?
Like being one of the million waves striking the mighty bay;
Like the trees, living in unacknowledged existence;
Like the birds chirping away in the distance.
Do we all not really worry about making an impact?
So that our name stays intact,
Even if our body withers away with age, disease or calamity,
Do we not really worry about feeding a lasting vanity?
We worry about the silence that would inundate,
The vacuum of our absence, so insensate.
We worry about creating ripples of sound,
That would last even when we are not around.
Maybe it would last beyond a single generation;
Maybe it would expand beyond nations;
Perhaps not beyond the people whose lives we touch;
Or the people for whom we served as an incidental crutch!
Maybe it would be a single echo;
Or perhaps a standing wave that bellows,
But we all wish to make our mark,
That would last even after we fade into the dark.
And so we try, we try to leave our presence,
Everywhere and in everything that has our essence,
Work, social circles, family,
Substantial or not, but intentionally.
We write our names in everything we create,
So that the abstracted world doesn’t forget.
It’s our way of greeting people we never meet;
Chronicling stories for those who seek;
Reaching the lips of those who we never would know;
In the form of narrations of our highs and lows.
Empowering those who need hope;
Leading some to feel they’re better than us, as they cope;
Thus, we relive, even after death,
About how we made them count – some breaths!