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take heed
that I remember
as my final breath is passed
to tell the wind
of how we loved
that I not be the last
the last to hear
the last to say
your precious name aloud
might spread it to the furthest plains
and to the darkest clouds
would tell the mountain
high above the cliff
that guards the lake
and rush beyond the sunset
another dawn to wake
with news of you
news of love
the best of which remains
as long as one remembers
the reasons why we came
let years be kind their passing
lest I hold silent until then
will give at last
with tender care
my longing to the wind

Author’s note: This work relates to a separate work “not so far” , and in fact
is closer to the original thought. The inspiration for both – a conversation
relating to storytelling (and immortality). Storytelling is a lost art, and yet vitally
important to our society, and to our universal family. Every effort should
be made to keep our stories alive through the telling and retelling far beyond
the first witness to bear.

As such, we shall live. Surely, we shall live as long as one remembers.
It is with this thought that I wrote of my commitment to tell – to tell the wind.