Death Poetry

  The light dies with darkness. But shadows also die. Or so we want to believe. In our little minds who like to take sides. The eternal cosmos is wise though. And it knows that in the morning some dreams die. But some others just begin. And when the night falls, some rejoice. But some cry. Death is the end. But who can stop you from seeing it as a beginning? What do you know of life my friend? Your lovely promising life is what led you to death at the end. Evil usually is concealed behind pretty dress. Pain and suffering were always here. Brought to you by those beautiful warm mornings you always loved. Now that you're dying look at the moon. Does it look sad?

Soaked in the rain. Every breath mine. Waiting for the sun to rise. For my hair to dry. All will be alright. (Feeling sad...) For I know the rain keeps me alive. Everything a mess. You cannot build castles on dry sand...

Scientists analyzing a 2,200-year-old Roman shipwreck found that its hull was coated with pine tar and, in one area, a mixture of tar and beeswax. Pollen trapped in those ancient coatings acted like a geographic fingerprint, revealing the landscapes surrounding the ship when repairs were made. [ 1 ] From bees to a ship. From the mountain to the deeps of the sea. A roman shipwreck. A scientist analyzing what people used to seal the hull. A ship once broken. Repaired so that it can again break the seas. But every travel has an end. People forget. And still, the ocean will still be there. With the promise of young age. With the scent of hope and laughter. Welcoming new voyages that just begin. (With a seabed full of ships...)

Dead from birth The cosmos is alive The trees, the bees. Even the rock in front of me But I cannot be I was dead before I was even born An idea of a living being Not enjoying life But constantly wondering Why anything can be Foolishly happy Roaming purposelessly on this Earth Dead from birth! ~ Death Poetry

All things have a start. All things have a telos. And the end is what defines the start. And the death is what gives meaning to life itself. Existence. Being. Humans trying to understand. Life in circles. Light and dark. All things have an end. But do not cry. All things have a start...

Death. Life. Being. All so important topics. That we go on every day, Without knowing what to say. We just feel alive! We just experience loss... And at these moments, We are in loss of words. And somehow that makes sense. That we stand silent in front of our self. And express what we feel in verse... Death. Life. Being. Does it matter what they mean at the end of the day? All I know is that I feel bad. All I know is that I feel well. (And that these feelings have something more to say...)

Death as a destination. A safe port. Death as agony. Something to be afraid of! Death as life. Part of everything that we love...

I want. I want this. I want that. In a short life defined by nothing else but me, I choose to define me by other things. And life passes by. And when me and death meet, I suddenly have so many things to speak. Things I missed. Things I need. Things I never dared dream. Oh, I have lived so much under the Sun that I am tired. But the Moon is up now. And under light of darkness, I can see. Of nothing of these things that I wanted. Except me.

Change me and I will change you. As well as the cosmos we are in. And that will also change other things in return. That will affect something else. Until the tide of change affects everything. And my new self, wakes up in a new world. To do things under a new sun. In a place where nothing is the same as the day before. Funny. Now that I see everything changed, I feel safe. For everything is dead. And still. The sun will rise again!

  Embryos being old. Humans being born. How can the new succeed what is gone? How can the wise man ever be young once more? How can life be alive without ever dying, how could death die without being alive? Oh, deep inside I knew. From the very beginning, the cosmos was old. (And then, it was born...)