Is This Love?
Decoding the Little Things
The fluttering of the heart in the beginning,
Leading to a serene calmness, later on.
The meaninful conversations in the beginning,
Leading to companianable silence, later on.
The need to be your best self in the beginning,
Leading to the slow and comfortable revealations of your worst self, later on.
The need to always be with each other in the beginning,
Leading to doing somethings alone sometimes, later on.
The social gatherings with friends and family in the beginning,
Leading to 'just us', later on.
The 'Let me do it for you' in the beginning,
Leading to 'Can you do this for me?', later on.
About the Creator
A Rustic Mind (Manali Desai)
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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 Curtis6 days ago in Humans
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