You may take my body — take my hands, my mouth, my skin; take my heart. You may take my soul, my feelings and thoughts. You may take my identity, my history and past, and future. You may take all the little details and my big picture, because I’m sure I have one, although I’m not sure where and how.
You may take it all… but you may not take my words. They are my temple, my world, my life.
You may take everything else, but what really makes me who I am, are my words. Those, you may never take — you cannot take them.
My words are change; they are my change. Everything else can transform and disappear, but my words are my constant. They too may change, take on different meanings, different feelings, different sentences and form different stories… But in all their change, they are always there, constant.
That’s why you may take everything else, because when I die, my name, my body, my thoughts… will perish with me, but my words will live on in every soul I’ve reached out to.
All my things may end up dust in the vestiges of my life, in forgotten boxes or in someone else’s possession, but my words will always be mine, for all.
I will depart, but my words will remain — here, there, in your memories, in your person. They will be inevitably be part of who you are.
You may take everything from me, but my words will always be mine — they will always be who I am. That is something you may never take.