The Stories We Leave
|
Dr Ranbir Laishram
Life is fragile—
morning dew,
here at dawn, gone by noon.
We are but moments
in a river's ceaseless flow.
Today, we breathe, laugh, love.
Tomorrow is a story
Waiting to be told.
Our names fade
Like footsteps in sand.
The wind comes—
Erases them.
Where do we live?
Where do we stay?
Not in bones or flesh.
But in stories.
Stories shared
By those who hold us close.
By those who remember us
When the light dims.
If we are lucky,
The words survive.
A whisper passed on—
Through time’s hands.
That whisper becomes a song—
a shining memory,
legacy alive in caring hearts.
Without them,
we vanish
like shadows in endless days.
With them, we become forever
in echoes of love.
Life is fragile—
morning dew,
here at dawn, gone by noon.
We are but moments
in a river's ceaseless flow.
Today, we breathe, laugh, love.
Tomorrow is a story
Waiting to be told.
Our names fade
Like footsteps in sand.
The wind comes—
Erases them.
Where do we live?
Where do we stay?
Not in bones or flesh.
But in stories.
Stories shared
By those who hold us close.
By those who remember us
When the light dims.
If we are lucky,
The words survive.
A whisper passed on—
Through time’s hands.
That whisper becomes a song—
a shining memory,
legacy alive in caring hearts.
Without them,
we vanish
like shadows in endless days.
With them, we become forever
in echoes of love.