As I stand before the gates of death,
And take my final, trembling breath
I'm filled with fear and deep regret
For all the things I left unsaid
I try to find my way to faith,
But no matter how I pray,
I remain an atheist at heart
A heathen creature with no god,
And now, as death draws near,
I am afraid.
......
Subconscious hope—subliminal trust.
Broadcasted smiles, complementing valediction.
“See you later” not guaranteed.
Planning for tomorrow: weeks, months, years.
Units measured by every morning not promised.
Personified love—lit by life.
Standing at the doorway of a room stowed in stacked boxes.
Opening a journal, reliving heavy or joyous memories nearly forgotten.
......
The waves of the ocean come and go
After a dark night, the sun will glow
The Law of Cycles operates everywhere on earth
And so, after we die, we come back in a Rebirth
What is the cause of this human birth?
What was the reason we came to earth?
We didn't decide where and when we were born
It was our Karma that sounded the horn
......
Life is so fragile for I live so close to death
and eternity will begin with my final breath.
This mortal body is composed of flesh and bone
but my soul is eternal and exists on its own.
These years of mine are but a wisp of smoke
and will come to an end at midnight's final stroke.
How many breaths will I breath within my lifetime?
How many heartbeats are there in this heart of mine?
......
Pardon my bluntly put, but people won't endure your fits and pricks much too long.
Even the wolves won't bite your lies. They're not afraid—they'll blitz your prongs.
The same thought creeps around my consciousness like an intruder in my home away from home,
Because there's a con in my house; a mole next door. I fancy a safe space and peace—all alone
Contouring your entourage is a classic precocious assimilation tactic.
Polygraphs haunt you in your sleep because you worship gossip as if it’s a situational prophylactic.
Your narc addiction is narcissistic. Strangers defy perspective and get hooked into your rave,
......
Subconscious hope—subliminal trust.
Broadcasted smiles, complementing valediction.
“See you later” not guaranteed.
Planning for tomorrow: weeks, months, years.
Units measured by every morning not promised.
Personified love—lit by life.
Standing at the doorway of a room stowed in stacked boxes.
Opening a journal, reliving heavy or joyous memories nearly forgotten.
......
Pardon my bluntly put, but people won't endure your fits and pricks much too long.
Even the wolves won't bite your lies. They're not afraid—they'll blitz your prongs.
The same thought creeps around my consciousness like an intruder in my home away from home,
Because there's a con in my house; a mole next door. I fancy a safe space and peace—all alone
Contouring your entourage is a classic precocious assimilation tactic.
Polygraphs haunt you in your sleep because you worship gossip as if it’s a situational prophylactic.
Your narc addiction is narcissistic. Strangers defy perspective and get hooked into your rave,
......
The most asked question of life isn’t about living itself,
But about death.
How were we created?
Where do we go when it is over?
The question isn’t about life,
But the absence of it.
Is death similar to the nothingness before birth?
Something completely different?
Does our conscience change that?
......
If I/you/we are one with everything
Then reincarnation is something that happens to all, altogether
There is no self to reincarnate
There is only samsara
Suffering
The continuance of karma
It is all the same karma
There is no self to reincarnate
And no self to attain nirvana
Only the burning of karma
......
Life is so fragile for I live so close to death
and eternity will begin with my final breath.
This mortal body is composed of flesh and bone
but my soul is eternal and exists on its own.
These years of mine are but a wisp of smoke
and will come to an end at midnight's final stroke.
How many breaths will I breath within my lifetime?
How many heartbeats are there in this heart of mine?
......