I struggle with the notion of my own legacy, such as any one whose thoughts burst forth as mine do, and the fear that once I am silenced.. Will I be forgotten….?
It is a wildly arrogant thing, a writer’s immortality, yet I can say that with each passing breath there is the soul’s chant to make a impermeable mark.
To become a lingering whisper on the lips of scholars and fools.
I levy against this selfishness, a real and sincere hope that what will remain of me , will help ease the burdens of some, and open the minds of others.
So as the hands of time reach out ever so slowly to gather me in…I work… word by word to be heard…for though I know My soul is endless… what I have said it is my Will… It be remembered.
This was written the day before I found out results of tests amidst a cancer scare in 2009. The specter of death is both sobering and enlightening. I was changed by it.