Even If You Forget My Name
On legacy — and the difference between being remembered and being felt.
A long one. About what gets to count, and the version of legacy worth working toward.
I won’t know ‘till it’s all said and done
If I can be proud of the man I’ve become
Dangerous times and delicate minds
Destroys a sense of pride; we’re lost in time
Days are weeks and weeks are months
Months are years, and I feel
That I don’t dream like I used to
What mattered then, won’t matter now
And what matters now won’t matter
All I can do, all we can do is go
With the wind, go toward what beckons
Our souls; intuition: I’ve always listened
I trust myself, but I don’t trust others
Yet I know a good heart when I feel one
I don’t want to become jaded
I stay in my lane, and hope beyond hope
That I’ve made a difference
That you felt an impact
And that love will remain
Even if you forget my name
Most legacies aren’t names on plaques. They’re the way someone you’d forgotten about still talks to themselves a certain way, because of something you said, because of something you did. Even if you forget my name — the love still travels.
— JTC