I may not have left anything…but…

 

 

I may not have left anything…but…

 September 16, 2020

 

Death is more like air as it flows and prevails,

a portal at every breather, to slow down and ponder,

to move on to something beyond touch.

At that point when I am gone, know me dear

for what I really breathed, two things scanty: love and freedom.

Never mind anything else, everything else is their trailing dust

of chaos, misconceptions, longings, wonders and aftermaths.

For they are not just two words, they are abstract nouns, and

like everything abstract they are complex and need insight,

pauses, patience, art and kind of deep look that goes beyond

and when I am gone, know if you have never known me

that I was that abstract which you failed to value for

all the missing perfect realism; that must have veiled your vision.

Yet if you can, go a little into memories step by step and breath

for at least once I must have touched you and that, only that is me,

know me for that, only that. When I leave, I will leave in content

coz, everything outside and inside me, I converted them into love and freedom

at my own pace and in my own ways.

Written for the prompt---

Weekly Scribblings #37: Last Messages at Poets and Storytellers United