The Graveyard’s Whisper

It was written upon a silent stone in a lonely graveyard —

a message not carved in marble alone,

but in truth.

“Your destination was always here, O human.

A lifetime passed before you arrived.

What did you truly gain in this world?

Even your own buried you before they left.”

The wind did not argue with the words.

The earth did not soften them.

They stood there, simple and merciless.

How strange this journey is.

We run through crowded streets chasing echoes of success.

We measure our worth in applause, in numbers, in fleeting titles.

We gather possessions like they are pieces of immortality.

Yet in the end, the road narrows into silence,

and all the noise we made dissolves into dust.

The Alchemist reminds us that the treasure we seek often lies closer than we think —

but we wander deserts to discover what was always within.

Like Hamlet questioning existence in the quiet of his mind,

we too hesitate before confronting the inevitable truth:

to be is temporary, to return is certain.

What did we gain?

The promotions?

The arguments won?

The pride we defended like a kingdom?

In the final procession, none of it walks beside us.

The hands that once held ours gently lower us into the earth.

The voices that once called our name fade behind the turning backs of time.

Even love, in its worldly form, pauses at the edge of the grave.

And there we are —

alone with our deeds.

The grave does not ask about your followers.

It does not measure your wealth.

It remembers only your character.

Perhaps the inscription was not a warning.

Perhaps it was mercy.

A reminder that the end is not an interruption —

it is the destination.

So walk gently.

Earn quietly.

Love sincerely.

Forgive quickly.

Because one day, beneath an open sky and a patient earth,

your name will be spoken one last time.

And the stone will whisper the same truth again.