Loss in Fire
Wrote this after a house fire years ago.
Darkness, blackness.
Smog, Smoke.
Dust, ash.
Broken, Gone.
Moving through the ash of what is left of my life.
Nothing but despair.
I sink farther into myself.
The walls get taller, as the room shrink.
Trapped inside my own soul.
Inside my skull.
Lost in the darkness I call my life.
About the Creator
Chantae Harding
Time to be honest and cut the crap. I love to write! I always have. I lost that for a while. I am here to grow, learn, and experience my own writing process. If you don't like my writing that's ok. I'm still learning.
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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 Curtisabout 19 hours ago in Humans
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