Remember Me

I think too much about what happens when we die.

I think too much about where we go, what we will do.

I think about the fact that one day we will all be stories.

Taken off the shelf, dusted off by a young girl and read for the first time.

But what happens if we die, and our story isn't over.

Do the rest of the pages just dissolve into thin air,

are the left bare, for the reader to anticipate and wonder.

Will anyone remember you if you do not achieve greatness,

if you don't fight in a battle, saving thousands,

if you don't throw caution to the wind or do something reclass.

The sad truth of death is that even if we save thousands,

and achieve greatness we still may not be remembered.

I wonder what happens to your soul when you are in someone's memory for the last time.

Does it vanish, or fade.

Do we all become a dusty old book just waiting, wishing someone would take us off the shelf.

Pleading to the ones still around to remember us,

read me,

choose me,

my story is worth it, I promise.

The sad truth is that we can hope and plead all we want,

but it won't change how and if people remember us.

We can build schools in Kenya,

cry at our loved ones funerals,

know pain,

know sadness,

know triumph,

and no one will be around to remember.

In centuries time,

I want to be remembered,

please take my story off the shelf and remember me.