At the end of the day,
I just want to be at my place to stay.
Success or failure, I am homeward bound
To the place where my comfort is found.
Why is this place so relaxing,
Even after the days that are most taxing?
That old chair on the front patio lends
The perfect view of where the rainbow ends.
All I need is my family and dog,
Green views and a light jog.
Time moves so quickly out here,
Away fades another year.
The trees and children are taller.
The list of complaints smaller.
It’s best to find this comfort and share it with you.
As I said, I have the perfect view.
About the Creator
Noah Glenn
Many make light of the gaps in the conversations of older married couples, but sometimes those places are filled with… From The Boy, The Duck, and The Goose
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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 Curtis4 days ago in Humans
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