After life and something else

I have been contemplating death for some time now. It's not that I am seeking any answers or asking any questions. But this contemplation could perhaps be the reflection of what my mind is trying to perceive. To make sense of the world that happens around us. After all, that's why we have our blissfully lost minds, right? To try and make sense. 

So, now I wonder, what is death, or precisely, when is death? When does it occur? Is it the decay and destruction of the body, or does one die with the passage of the soul? Is death a process, or is it the end? Or is it the maturity of an investment that we make when we are born? Death, I think, is oblivion. That, one truly dies only when the memory of them ceases to exist. I think this is why the ancients erected temples, tombs and edifices with their names carved on stone. This might be the reason why many cultures worshipped/s their ancestors. I think this was their attempt at immortality. So that as long as their names are spoken, through the many stories, songs, myths, legends and lores, they will be remembered, and they shall never truly die. 

And, would it be too much to think that we are kept alive by the stories we tell and the myths we share and we live as long as there are people to tell these stories and as long as there are people to remember them. And as these stories are told, in between the pauses, the breath or the sigh, the lament or glory, hope or despair, we arouse to experience life and savour its nuances. A moment to reflect before we carry on and get carried away by the stories. Like a bookmark, these moments add subtle flavour and meaning to the way we live. And in the end, these are the milestones that remind us of our journey, even if the stories are lost in the depths of memory, before fading into limbo. 

But, I think the cyber age has made us immortal in ways even God couldn't have imagined. Now, with our lives all online, between zeros and ones, all our 'stories' are posted, shared and archived. Captured, like a screenshot, the human experience is now uploaded to a cloud. Leaving pyramids and parchments all obsolete. Now the human does not have to remember, for it is remembered for him. I think I'll be immortal thus. Because, my words will from this moment on, be made a part of the skies, etched in 'clouds' all around the planet. I'll be downloaded as I'll be uploaded. And I'll be remembered by this machine, maybe until machines are all that's left.