Within the fabric of existence, a delicate strand.
Unites hearts in a divine pattern.
It intertwines across time, spanning both close and distant moments.
An unbreakable bond, akin to a radiant celestial body.
The unspoken connection found in the gaze of a romantic partner is truly special.
Or the joy experienced on sunny days.
It is the hand that extends during moments of necessity.
A strong foundation, both in speech and action.
Friendship finds its rhythm in the dance it shares.
Increasing in strength with every day that goes by.
The unspoken language shared by kindred spirits,
A bond more profound than any material ambitions.
In the realm of familial connections, it is the roots that provide a solid foundation.
In the depths of its affection, we discover a love that envelops us completely.
The memories exchanged over the dining table hold great significance.
An unbreakable bond that cannot be disabled by anything.
It withstands the test, enduring both trials and triumphs.
A relationship built on love, which is indeed fortunate.
Within its embrace, we discover our most authentic identities.
Interconnected, akin to volumes in a library.
Let us embrace and treasure this unadulterated and genuine connection.
Our spirits are rejuvenated within its embrace.
The source of our guidance lies within its power.
A radiant symbol of affection, shining endlessly.
About the Creator
Tahmid Islam
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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 Curtis5 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Beautifully written poem!