Being the Library of Life

If I were immortal, I think this is how my life would go:

I blink, 

Expecting for my life to end,

But instead it keeps on going.

I mosey through my infinity,

My friends and family just visitors,

My life works simply hobbies.

I seal my eyes shut and am met with a void,

The reminder that I will live forever,

That I will forever lack the sense of permanence,

That I will end up drifting through space.

I attempt to yank myself out of the suffocating darkness,

To focus on the things that aren’t monotone.

I keep my eyes peeled, 

Searching for little delicacies,

Things that I will never encounter again,

Little sentimental moments that others will never again experience.

I pour these things into my thoughts:

The joy on children’s faces,

The love in couple’s eyes,

The giggles that are emitted from friendships,

The sadness that overcomes mourning families.

I try to draw in emotions,

Swirl it into a humane feeling,

Give myself the experience to flood myself with different life happenings,

Allow my mind to become a library of life.

I once again pause,

Block out the buzz of life,

Think.

I’m no longer met with a void,

But a puzzle,

Each piece a different part of humanity,

Each connection helping reality evolve.

I am the keeper,

The bearer of mortality,

As an immortal.