Fanfare for Immortality






Prose, that manifested itself to me, as if to temper the delight I felt, at writing my only other verse, "Beauty Blind"



What is life?

Life is a conscious sense of being, a familiarity of that which is around us.

Life is a sense of feeling, hearing and seeing the many wondrous things that impinge upon our existence.

Life is a time between birth and death, a time of inevitability.

Life is an uncertain encounter with a reality that steers us towards our ultimate finale.


As we approach the conclusion of our years however long, we hear the distant fanfare of an impending arrival, heralding that inexorable fact of life, which is of course, death.


Do I fear death?

No! I accept that which is inescapable, that which we all travel towards throughout our ephemeral lives.

My fear, was that of not having made my mark on life, of being forgotten in death, as if my existence had never been.

Yet, as I now hear that faint fanfare, I realise this was a fear unfounded and now consigned to be forgotten, unlike the memories of my interactions with life, carried in the minds of others beyond my existence, those memories which will maintain my purpose of having been, of having influenced others in their lives, and having made my mark in life by this fashion.


Do we fail to sleep at night, for fear we may not wake the following morn?

If we should not wake, who would know?

Not the sleeper, who slips into the long eternal slumber of death.

No! The only people who know are the loved ones left behind, who have to adjust their lives to take account of others absence.

So why, as potential sleepers, should we fear that eternal rest, it is others who have to suffer our passing, not us.

And who is "Us", for we are all, both loved ones left behind and eventual sleepers, at some point in our time.


And what of those we leave behind?

We have no control, can offer no consolation, and are unable to influence them once that time is upon us.

We can only pass with dignity, and assurances of our acceptance of that which is inevitable.

We can only show our love, and help them to accept and understand that which happens to us all, and above all else, say the unspoken things that many wish had been said, but so often alas, too late.

We can only ask that they remember the happier times, to perpetuate our being beyond our sleep, and make us truly immortal by those memories.

No, I have no fear of death, for I'll live on in others.


by Graham A. Newman


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