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…
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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…
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