I fear to be forgotten

autumn

Have I left a lasting footprint?
To be remembered, not forgotten.
In dying you take nothing with you.
What you leave behind matters.

The fear of disappearing into dust.
No footprint left behind.
A year passes, will I be missed?
A grave of weeds or flowers blooming?

Death snuffs out life.
What awaits, only the dead knows.
No answers there, only faith.
My believe in everlasting life.

So, why do I fear being forgotten?
Could it be I crave immortality?
No, that is not the reason.
Take a walk among the tombstones.

Long lost graves, in ruins.
The headstones unreadable.
Is there no one to tell their story?
For they once walked among the living.

To be slowly erased from this world.
A headstone with no markings.
Strangers ask, “Who is buried here”?
Yes, I fear to be forgotten.

By C.E. Pereira
(17-3-2015)

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Author: cepcarol

I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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