While I lay on my pillow, beneath the moon's soft glow,
Listening to the raindrops dance upon my window,
I watch memories of us gently roll away,
As I drift into the night, where dreams hold sway.
While I lay on my pillow, lightning splits the sky,
Reflecting on the journey, once you and I,
Grateful for the blessings, each moment, every stride,
I kiss my babies goodnight, with love as my guide.
While I lay on my pillow, peace fills the air,
A gentle reminder, that life's burdens we bear,
With gratitude in my heart, for all that's come to light,
I close my eyes, bidding the world goodnight.
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
Comments (1)
Beautifully written! Great job!