*This is originally by Rica Lewis*
what if Death were not a thief
but rather, a set of wings
whose warm feathers could lovingly sweep us
into the place where souls find rest?
what if Death were not a cruel blade,
cutting our lives from the vine?
what if Death were a shelter, a place to preserve love
in the velvet expanse of it's wings,
keeping it safe from Life's thorns?
what if Death were not a matter of decay,
but rather, a process of shifting energy, a soul's journey
from its flesh-bone home to its new address in
eternity's embrace?
what if Death did not taste like salty tears,
but rather, like the dew in a garden
where love and peace bloom
forever?
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Poetry
诗歌⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ if any of the tagged things are sensitive to read about or makes you feel uncomfortable, please do not read! I'd hate to be the reason you feel either way.
