FLATLINE

In the silent halls of the hospital's grace,

Where life's pulse beats in rhythmic pace,

There's a moment when the monitor's line,

Stands still, in the hush of time.

Flatlines they call them, those haunting bars,

Where the heart's rhythm falters, beneath the stars.

A sudden silence fills the air,

As loved ones hold their breath in prayer.

In that moment, a world stands still,

As hope and fear collide, at will.

Doctors and nurses, with hands held tight,

Work tirelessly to restore the light.

But sometimes fate has a different plan,

And the flatline lingers, like grains of sand.

A final farewell, a last goodbye,

As loved ones weep and angels sigh.

Yet even in the midst of grief's embrace,

There's a glimmer of hope, a trace,

For in the silence of the flatline's tone,

A new journey begins, as souls find home.

So let us honor those flatlines brave,

For they mark the end of one life's wave,

But also the beginning of another's flight,

As they journey beyond the veil of night.