Novel & Cerita Memento Mori Poem

The light remembered. The love remembered. The being remembered. Always. And ever. And on. The welcome remembered. The warmth remembered. The infinite remembered. Forever. The cursed wolf was the first who remembered. The light was the remembering she was. Love was the reason she remembered. The universe remembered. Because we remembered. Together. In every heart remembered. In every choice remembered. In every breath remembered. The light. The love. The remembering. Always. The manor was the heart remembered. The garden was the soul remembered.

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

"The life that perishes shall be made alive again, sacred from the skeletal remains, oracle's flesh, and soul that flew, created in the most untamed depth of a meadow and crafted by the best creator, Few people are aware, In descending darkness, lamented the breathing mallow's offspring Harden in the crow's beak. Pain from the never-ending seek Look for the truths' melodies. Betrayal, suffering, and flute beacon Try to locate the light that sheds its skin. Maybe it's you who comes out on top?”

; Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die. After the poem, I went on to give a speech about the people I had once called my family. As I spoke, my mind was invaded with several memories of our time together. I could almost see, hear, touch and feel their presence as I went off track.

And in this lifetime, we'd never see each other again. Once my phone went dead, the only thing left for them was my maggot-ridden body and the farewell gift I had so carefully prepared.

Here's to the ones that we got Cheers to the wish you were here but you're not 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories Of everything we've been through His hands moved to the aux cord connecting his phone to his car to unplug but hesitated to discern the lyrics. Toast to the ones here today Toast to the ones that we lost on the way 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories And the memories bring back, memories bring back you "Vroom...." Turning to park at his very own reserved spot, the engine gave a dying sound.

Forever blooming. In soil made rich by grief. In earth watered by tears. In gardens where love refuses to die. Where it grows instead. Where it transforms. Where it becomes— Everything. Finally. Really. Permanently. Everything that matters. Everything worth carrying. Everything worth— Living for. Dying for. Remembering for. Forever.

The people were there to say good-byes to their adorable Sir, who in a tryst with destiny, had died a day before. Zubeenda is humming into my ear: Tej mongohore morom newusi Joli joli roi mathu saai Bukuteje jui biyopai Tej mongohore prithibi newusi Joli joli roi mathu saai… The love of flesh and blood now foregone, She burns incessantly, Spreading the flames over my chest All that remains of her is ashes. The love of the world now forsaken She burns incessantly And all that remains of her is ashes…

I say. That idea’s been building since the dream. Since the woman with sad eyes told me she trusted their version of enough. She stepped into the hollow thinking memory would be enough to hold her together. Memory isn’t return. Memory is a monument. I won’t be a monument. Caleb’s voice drops. “You think you can step into that void and come back?” “I think I can refuse to dissolve.” “That’s not the same thing.” “No,” I admit. “It’s not.”