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by ZweiBieren Thinking about our hereafter pens in a mug

Death Is ...

Death is no sunset, 
No passing beyond the pale.   
It is a blazing summer meadow.
Bees hustle, buzz, and pollinate.
Bugs ramble, eat, and nourish.
Members pass, while colonies persist.
Death is not dark. 
Nay! Death is a laughing dawn 
of newly freed corpuscles
cavorting across the universe
giving life to what will be.
Death is no silence. 
No soul's stillness.
Death is a thundering disquiet
as those remaining re-echo
their memories of those now gone.
Death neither ends nor begins.
It is but a single depot passed by
Our train of roaring generations.
Patrons at the station
Stand in awe.

ZweiBieren, 2024

 
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