If I died tomorrow, what would I be most remembered for?
Believe me, that is a question that I try to answer every day
thinking about the delicate fragility that tomorrow entails,
what if’s, could be’s—enshroud my thoughts occasionally,
not reminiscing the past but picturing my very last breath.
I may be remembered for the words that I mostly conveyed,
I may be remembered for my unrelenting state of calmness,
I may be remembered for efforts I made to lead myself well,
I may be remembered for the instances and people I escaped,
or, I may be forgotten from the next day of my non-existence.
It does not scare me as such. Yes! the thought of death I mean.
Nor am I scared of the uncertainty of the moments passing by,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to myself,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to my death,
the simple and single answer to which in most part is ‘yes’.