I used to think this world was a gift from our ancestors, a possession that we may bend to our will to our liking. That was what I used to think. The older I get however the nature of relationship changed, man and this world is not of ownership. What is often mistaken as a gift from those who come before, is rather a temporary loan from those who have yet to come, our descendants. Man does not own, merely charged with the duty to keep it and take care of it, the only say he has in the matter is what kind of world he will hand back.

Men have always died. In dying they take nothing, so it was a man gives, what he leaves behind that defines him, each man building upon his predecessors legacy. Long forgotten ancestors left us an identity, a name. In taking a name Forefathers pass on lands and property.the men of this era are no different. In being given wealth and lands they ought to aspire and build, leave behind a world, a better one.

It is a fool who seeks to build a monument for the greatest of his ancestors, for all he had to do was witness his own reflection, he was their greatest memory, a living one. He bore their likeness in a way no statue or painting ever would, carried their legacy within his own veins. His every action in good faith would testify to their magnificence that no historical account could quantify.

It is a fool that fears death, death has always been destination, the same of destination that my forefathers had, the same destination my descendants will have. It is same destination of men great and men small. Death is certain. What is not certain is life, the things I will do before that final rest, the journey that will lead me to it. it is what will set me apart from the others, the very thing that will make me unique and alone from the rest of humanity,where death binds me to it. It is the wise that comes to fear life.