… and on one of those few times Moi is audible enough and Me is less lazy to pen down, Moi said to Me,
I am afraid I won’t do anything that will worth a space in your memory, but then, remember me all the same.
I won’t say any word worth memorising, but, memorise them all the same.
I will never sing a song worth dancing to… Dance to my music all the same.
I won’t love you the way you want, I may never be lovable, never your “type”; love me all the same.
I won’t write a poem or symphony worth listening to; listen to them all the same.
One is not worth the sorrow when they are gone, no hole or vacuum created, but then, try as much as you can, try to shed a drop of tear when one is gone…as for me, feel free to cry all the same.
I will never write a script worth acting; act them all the same.
One cannot have a number of gifts large enough for everyone… accept them all the same, as little as they come.
You may never come across kids the way you like them, all the same, I beg, world, treat the children right.
I may never come on time… don’t call me late though… even when I’m finally lifeless, don’t call me late all the same.
Me, you know I’ll never speak wisdom worth taking serious; hearken to my voice all the same.
Even in your selfishness and greed, thoughts of one’s self and maybe family alone, as hard as you may find it, with nothing to offer, think of your neighbour all the same.
For Moi, I am nobody, never seen, never heard, never known, absolutely invisible, yet invincible; and please, whatever you do, wherever you are, don’t forget me, and I’ll remember you all the same.