I am incomplete.

I am discontent not with the state of my life;
but rather with the inevitability of its end.
Although I have no fear of pain,
or of death.

I have only the fear that there will come a day
that the entirety of my existence will have meant nothing.
Every decision made, action taken, and feat conquered
will be forgotten.

Even as it stands now
there are people to whom I once dedicated myself entirely
that have forcefully forgotten me.

There will come a day,
no matter what I accomplish in my life,
that my name will be unknown.

Maybe this is the vain hope of writers;
that in words we will forge our immortality.
But time has all the time in the world
to erode away the fact you were ever here.

To turn my tombstone to sand,
have the winds carry it to a beach
that was never even there in my time.
Where I feel my soul just may feel at home anyways,
watching a sunrise alongside
a million people I don't know
and who have never known anyone I did;
because none of it ever made sense anyways,
it wasn't meant to.

Sometimes I feel like I would like to stay behind
just to find someone who reminds me
of who I once was
and follow along to remind myself
that my legacy was in my own time
when with every step
I shaped the world.