AFTER MY LAST BREATH

I watch them cry, Beneath the sky; My body stays, My soul slips away. My child holds tight, Through fading light; They call my name, But I can’t remain. They gather near, With trembling tears; They promise my name Will outlive the years. My body turns cold, My story grows old; The flowers will fade, The memories will shade. Their children will hear My name once a year; Then time will erase The shape of my face. And when all is gone, No story lives on; No stone, no flame— Not even my name. Perhaps death is not when we die, but when the last soul forgets why. Nabinjyoti Behera · ceo@nafvna.com · Founder & CEO | NAFVNA