THE IMMORTALS

I never met my grandmother yet I know her, I know her behaviour and her desires, I understand her emotions and attitudes . I never met my grandmother yet I found her in my father’s stories. In these stories she comes to life and I see her speak, I see her smile as I hear her adventures. My father’s words and my imagination takes me to her and in my heart she lives. That which has gone has a chance to forever live in stories told for generations. One is truly lost if their tales are forgotten.
The fabled elixir of immortality is lost to gods and Angels as it is we humans who choose always whom to immortalise. Heroes with the grandest tales may be lost in a single generation nary lips to whisper their exploits and foes may live a millennia through folklore.
It is we the living , we the present who hold the key to ete
al life. The stories we choose to tell will decide the survival or extinction of our past and as our own time is limited we must be cautious to which thoughts we transform to words.
It is our duty to gift every tale to our children before our time is up. Our forefathers deserve to live forever in the hearts and mind of our children to anchor their souls in the storms of seduction.
Their stories will act as courage , strength and discipline when these traits are in short supply.
We are so busy writing our stories that we forget what ever that may ever happen to us may have happened to someone else. Hence the wise take out time to learn of others to be inspired towards right action and to be humbled by those who remained steadfast in turmoil.
My fathers stories made me who I am today.
His stories are my true wealth. A treasure which I choose to share with my loved ones. For if I have the power to immortalise ,why waste it on rumours and gossip? I choose my immortals in my heroes.
In my tales they come to life and I hope one day when I am dust even I too shall live in the tales of my children.
Love you bless you
Namah shivay