Seeds

To die is not to end

But to exist in the moments

When one’s eyes are closed

To live in the fractional seconds of blinking

To survive in dreams lucid and fantastical

To live is to be known

By name or by work

By kin or by legacy

Immortality is a picture framed on a wall,

A single voice in a quiet room

Memory is eternity if you allow it to be so

For it is the people we touch who carry us

After our bodies decay

What is not forgotten will never die

What is spoken of can never be lost

The stories we tell are the veins

Through which the blood of the passed may flow

And one day when I am ash

I hope to god I am remembered

Because to die is not to end

To die is to become a bouquet of memories

That the living will water

Till they are blossoms themselves