In my hand, a world unfurled,
A phone, a portal to the modern whirl.
Connections made, voices heard,
Ideas sparked, with every word.
***
A window to knowledge, a library vast,
Infinite stories, present and past.
Photos captured, memories kept,
Through fleeting moments, they are adept.
****
But amidst the virtual, let us not forget,
To breathe, to feel, to truly connect.
For the phone is a tool, a guide,
But it's in our hearts that life resides.
***
Balance its power, embrace the real,
Let the phone enhance, not steal.
In this digital dance, let's remain free,
To find true joy in the world we see.
About the Creator
kulandaivel
"Creative writer sharing passions for travel, music, and nature through relatable and inspiring stories. Aiming to engage audience and bring positivity to the world. Excited to be a part of the Vocal community."
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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
Comments (1)
Great Piece ❤️📝👀Thank you for sharing❗