A Portrait of Life and Death
There’s no better university than the cusp of death,
for there in its gallery are seen two worlds side by side,
both dripping in guilt and blood.
Of death, it is but a door between levels of being,
one physical and one not,
one of fractal existence,
and one of total consumption.
Of life, there is no greater gift than spiritual freedom,
to experience the universe as a sole entity,
yet, often, man forgets he is not alone,
for he falls into a gel that bleeds his spark,
rendering him deaf to the whispers of consciousness,
a trial of time, so often wasted in the long red nails of a lifespan.
The soul is but a mirror of all,
lest it shatters to leave one a disconnected shard,
in a portrait of death,
that has severed its connection to life.
------------------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment