Allegory of Twin Flames
Journey through the cosmic realm
In a realm where shadows sway,
Moonlit whispers in night's array.
Dreams unfurl in cosmic frame,
Chasing echoes of a kindred flame.
Through the woods of illusions spun,
Where stars blend into confusion's run.
In allegory, our love takes flight,
A dreamer's journey, boundless night.
Petals fall with silent grace,
Souls entwined in fate's embrace.
Mirror reflections in waters gleam,
Twin flames lost in ethereal dream.
Wings of hope, feathers light,
Guide us through the endless night.
Metaphors whisper, emotions hidden,
In dreams, our love remains unbidden.
In the forest where illusions sprawl,
Stars' confusion leaves us in thrall.
In allegory, our love ascends,
A dreamer's tale that never ends.
In cosmic tapestry, threads unwound,
Words unspoken, but deeply bound.
Time halts for but a fleeting glance,
In the twin flame's eternal dance.
With dawn's break, reality returns,
Yet in dreams, our love still yearns.
Allegory's grip, a story untold,
In the heart's dream, twin flames enfold.
About the Creator
T. E. Door
I am a writer who is driven by my passion to unravel all understanding of each individual’s narrative I encounter, especially those involving children’s education. I express my love for writing, through poetry, essays, and short stories.
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis7 days ago in Humans
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