I wish life really was a book
so I could see what will come next.
What will I get and what will I give up in my heart?
When will the heart begin to smile and when will it begin to cry?
I wish life were actually a book
so I could rip out the parts that made me cry.
adding some pages that brought back funny memories.
How much has been gained and lost?
If I could quantify how much I wish life were truly a book,
I would have taken my eyes out of the present and gone back in time.
I genuinely wish that life were a book.
About the Creator
Anecdote
I have found solace and joy in the art of writing. A girl who thrives on expressing thoughts, dreams, and emotions through the power of language. Join me on this journey of wordswordsđź’•
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 Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Beautiful