This moment will surely come.
When like the ash blown off the hearth, we will cease to exist,
The world, we will see no more because we will fade more faster than the dust blown by the East wind.
Every position we have occupied will be replaced by someone else and everything we have laboured for endlessly will be some else's possession, divided like the flesh of the prey before the predators.
Time won't be for us again. We won't be busy with the hustle and bustle of life to make ends meet, no need to impress anyone, because that won't be possible after nothingness calls.
Though we love looking good and we choose silk clothes and shoes to wear, but all the fancy clothes and shoes, gold and diamond wristwatches and bracelets we have gathered won't be used to adorn the soul when it will be put to rest, below the sands of time.
All the rights and wrongs we have done, we won't be able to reverse again.
The tears, sorrow, joy, peace and happy moments we have ever had will be nothing but memories in the void of existence.
It will end as we see the end, like the setting sun over the west.
But there is something that will tell of our existence.
The life we lived and the legacy we left, either true or trick,
The air that once journey through our lungs will forever swing the tree top,
And the sound of our voices will forever echo in the ears of time.
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