October 21

The world without us

I am reading this book right now called The world without us by Alan Weisman. It talks about the world that will be if humans were to somehow miraculously be removed from Earth. And it got me thinking of a poem I wrote about 8-9 years ago that I had titled It will too turn to dust. Sitting here looking at rain and the water around me, I can’t help but think about the world we are making for ourselves.

And one day this too shall turn to dust
Weather down and slowly mix with earth
But long before that day comes
This world will shake and crumble
By our own bombs.

We talk of nothing but war
We crave nothing but fight
We see nothing but me
And we following nothing but rage Continue reading

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July 5

Death is but a beginning

He had a terrible dream last night
Dreams of death, killing and murder
Unsure of what it meant he looked
And found it to symbolize ending

Things end eventually, nothing stays the same
A way of life ends but never dying
For death is like a phoenix
Always reborn from the dying sparks

For when something completes, another starts
When a door closes, another opens
When a thought finishes, another comes up
And so sometimes relationships end too
And a new one starts

What does it mean, a new one starts
Maybe sometimes things keep falling
And you don’t know how to stop
So you let it hit the ground and break
And recreate from the pieces

That’s how life always is
Sometimes you let things break
So that you can take what you want
Add something new
And what you have is new
A sum total of old
Alongwith wisdom of years

Maybe that is what he was thinking too
That let this relationship end as it is
And then remove the bad parts
And add new thoughts

And create a better way of life

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