No offspring to carry me on,
Once I die, what’s left of me is gone.
Two certainties in life, death and taxes.
The fear of not being remembered,
A struggle unique to humankind.
A tree worries not what happens when it’s time to feed the worms.
The tree thinks not about the futility of life,
By the strength of its limbs,
Within its fruits and flowers, the tree honors the past.
The habitat it creates with its leaves,
The creatures it feeds, the tree provides for the future.
Using my strengths, I honor my history,
Living my purpose, I become eternal.
Like the tree, I have one job.
Only one job.
To live my purpose.
Finding your purpose is as easy as reaching for the sun,
Simply grow towards what lights you up.