THE IRONY OF IMMORTALITY

Immortality is so ironic. The more mortal you are the more immortal you become.

Look at the shadowed footprints of those long gone.For the greater part,it is not those who sighed their last in infirmity and old age who are well remembered and long mourned but those whose breath were abruptly halted through foul means or fair,at least by the terms of heavens above, who are wistfully remembered and deeply mourned. The younger you are the better.
People think of you and see your face in photographs yellowing with age and bitterly wonder 'Where would you be, What would you be doing and What would you say were you alive?'. They look at your unlined face timeless in its youth and uncreased from worries and wonder if their life would have been different if you would have still been alive. They see those happy memories captured in still images, forgetting the tough times they suffered with you and wish you were there to partake in both their sorrows and joys. They attribute many a current success to you and wonder what you would have said if you had been around to feel the same euphoric rise as they do at that moment.

Immortal aren't you? No one lives to see you brittle with age and turn sour as experiences add an astringent dash of lemon to your character. No one lives to see your beauty erode as your shiny black tresses turn into dusty grey, your features decompose into a distorted mirror of your vibrant youth, your weaknesses magnified and your strengths underplayed and those wonderful dreams and promises of success fade into the tempered mediocrity of reality.

Immortal you are. You live on long after you are gone as a monument to perfection;your weaknesses non existent, your courage and character amplified and your unfulfilled dreams and hopes now the dreams and promises of those you left behind.

You... You... You who were most mortal of all men and women are now the pinnacle of immortality. So ironic.