Legacy

    I walk the streets and I wonder. I wonder and I ponder what may be thought of me if a God-forbidden accident or fatal coincidence befalls me... What songs will be sung in my stead, what tale will be told of my life, what rumors will fly the fastest?
     I imagine it would be an ordinary tale, of little severity, of vague importance. The titles brother, son, grandson, friend, fiancé, teacher, and writer will be plastered on my headstone. Titles many of which were given to me, of which I was made into, of which I didn't create or grasp for myself. Portfolios of which I was terrible, being almost every single one of them.
The air would not notice one nose missing from breathing it. The sands would not remember my steps, scurry as they were. My name will be forgotten in a few hundred months, cause I had no impact, I held no importance, and I did nothing of significance.
     I see how I want to leave the world, with my name tattooed on the heavens, with my words read, recited, and sung at every corner of the earth. I want to not be an annoying and ungrateful son, an excommunicated grandson, or a bad brother, I want to be a good friend, a good person, a wonderful husband, an inspirational and lovable teacher, and a great inexhaustibly talented writer.
      I want to look back at my life and be satisfied or at least okay with how I left, with I lived, with how I am remembered. I want to leave behind a legacy that will be exalted a millennium from now, never to be forgotten. A legacy so great, even the stars, winds and waves will remember my feats, my name.