Soon I will be nothing.
My lifeless body will float in the void,
Listless and unresponsive,
Cracked and decayed,
With no remnants of a soul,
A shell that once bore my name.
Soon I will be nothing,
But and echo in your memory,
Implanted in your mind,
Integrated in your being,
Still slowly receding,
To the shadows till you forget,
And only the impression of my presence remains,
Soon I will be nothing,
Neither fleshy corpse or memory.
The only bit that will remain
Will be these words, these structured syllables
Etched in print and other technology;
For a stranger to vaguely recall me,
But not the real person just an impression of me.
Soon I will be nothing.
The body will pass and fade.
The memory gone; the words soon to follow.
When history is lost, when humanity has fallen.
Soon I will be completely forgotten.
So why do I struggle, toil on this plane?
Why do I bother with this limited existence?
Because, I am driven, compelled beyond my control.
The compulsion to create is my soul.