To Become Immortal...

A poem about the tradition of carrying on...to forget is to have never lived at all.

To become immortal,
oh such an honor.

To live, to breath
Remembrance.

Speak my name,
Let it carry on with the ages,
For one day it will no longer exist.

Become a faint spring wind,
Dwelling over the blind and the deaf.

The birds will forever sing 
Amongst the trees aloft

Graves cannot hear,
Corpses cannot be near,
Such a beautiful song so soft.

I see a grassy hill come sit here with me.
And watch the clouds pass on in to eternity.

Above a never ending sea of Bristle cone pine trees
Watch them sway with the wind do you not see?

Even Methuselah would agree.
That one day this earth will die, and so will I.

The trees stand tall and sound
But must move with the wind or be torn to the ground.
But without the wind to carry its seed
The trees would no longer exist.

To become immortal.....become the wind