How many of us move through life, unknowingly drawing our final breath, spending our last hour with someone we believe we will see next week, sharing our final meal with someone we hold dear, watching our last film, listening to our final song, or reading the last page of another’s story?
One truth about life, seldom spoken, is that with every day we live, we are also dying. From the moment we are born, we inch closer to death. We pass through life, accumulating loved ones, possessions, and experiences; but to what end?
If we are all merely running toward the inevitable, then let us accumulate all that brings us joy. Be remembered as a collector of everything and everyone you love. And most importantly, tell them how you feel; before the last days arrive, and your chance slips away.
–
From our first breath, the seconds slip,
Spent in a currency we scarcely grip.
We waste it on what’s broken, worn,
While neglecting the beauty newly born.
Too often, we fixate, we stall,
Forgetting to build, to love, to call;
Moments that ripple, memories that bind,
Treasures more lasting than what we leave behind.
Time, the one gift we all possess,
Dwindles down with each caress.
And when we exhale our final sigh,
We’ll wish we’d spent it not asking why,
But shaping moments that outlast death;
For time, not life, is our final breath.
— Sincerely, Boris
