Imprints

Tomorrow,
I will be an imprint.

It might interest some lost soul,
Who might perhaps try,
To evoke their own lost self,
Through what they can see.

They say that's how history is written.
Mapping one's own imprints,
Onto the ghosts of the past.
... They will never know me.

And still, they will go on
weaving new tales.
To some of those,
Even I couldn't agree.

But I will be long gone.
Leaving an imprint,
Of the burden of my existence,
For them to see.

Maybe one day,
Some lost soul will trace some meaning through it.
And that should be enough for me.

-Ruta