I heard a whisper long before. A hushed and quiet word lost to all by my own ears. A word both sweet and filled with sorrows unimagined by the world and those who live within.
It was a whisper of a life not of my own, but of my blood and soul. It was a whisper of what might be in a time where my eyes would never see.
And so I closed my eyes with sorrow, as my face smiled with what I would miss. But I know what it is I would miss and what I will never know.
With my blood in their veins, and my life in their memories, so will they go forth and perhaps whisper of what once was.
But always I will be there watching, quietly from far away. In the echoes of what is, then was, the lives which came from me.