What is left
If there will be one thing left of me,
its the service that I have done.
The things that I gave away.
The stories I shared.
The lifes I inspired.
The things that outlive me.
Not for egotistical reasons.
But for the greater good.
If there is one battle that I have yet to overcome,
its the ego inside me that strives for significance.
For that what has my name written on it.
It's a path chased by many.
The path of fame and perceived glory.
Which is in the end a mere psychological inability to think beyond ones own immediate circumstances.
The greater good that I will never see-through or can imagine.
One might read a line if poetry, never known from whom it's written, but this will alter his reality to see a brighter future.
In the end what is left, is the relationship you had with yourself, with other people and what you made during your time of being alive.
Making art, making friends, making a leap,
planting trees, digging holes, turning stones,
being kind, being bold, being proud,
with what you made but kept making.
Creating because creation in itself is the source of all beginnings, all possibilities, all ambiguities.
Do. Make. Create. More.
Tomorrow is certain, but not promised.