White candle burning in the darkness,
moving flames from time to time,
Giving heat, brightness, and light.
From the light comes the drunkenness smell,
with vanilla, berries, and more to tell.
Part of the strong blind delight,
chasing shadows coming to the sight.
Winning again, against the light,
Covering the entire room,
in sadness and sorrowing tomb.
Escaping the poisoned scent,
turned into venom gloom, non a consent.
It is white covered in delight,
powerful enough to challenge the pitch fright.
There... strongly stands the flickering light,
still shining, furious, and bright.
Stay strong little flame,
burn and burn until the end.
About the Creator
Ina Zeneli
In love with writing books for kids, young adults, poetry, and novels.
Find my books here:
https://a.co/d/3kb8btt
https://www.amazon.com/author/inazeneli
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More stories from Ina Zeneli and writers in Poets and other communities.
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 (2)
Love it ❤️
Your writing skills are truly impressive. I loved it.