To yearn eternity from mortals

I learned the sanctity of the word “last” when the most beloved moments to me were judged under this name:

Last embrace, last meeting, last day.

I learned that everything is threatened to become a last, and that my love and panic will not bring back my last things.

I learned the mockery of the word “eternity,” yet despite that, my recklessness and desire overwhelm me to name bodies destined for death as “eternity.”

So I fortify what remains of me, restrain my desires, and flee where I cannot see them, hoping their death does not defeat me and that I do not weaken by their departure.

And yet, I am defeated time and again by a mother’s warmth, a father’s memory, a brother’s laughter, and a passing greeting.

So I return to where I was, as I am, led by a heavy heart that loves them, so it rebels and demands eternity from them.

this is just a literary text I’ve written originally in Arabic as I’m an Arabic writer and got it translated to English. Would love to hear your thoughts