Wreaths and Rebirths

Rebirth by Carrie White (Liquid Drop Art)

Stories of the globe never begins with birth,

Our lives are but a silent prologue to a show,

Which is an imperative destiny; we dance to

The tunes of nature only at our deathbed!

The horizon of existence never ends, whilst

Our perplexed soul sees curtains fall, it is

Only for another chapter to be presented forth.

Awaken to the reverberations of love, glide

Along the waters of friendship, snuggle beneath

Blankets in a perception of security, and yet

Disrupt the mind in the absurdness of solitude!

Life is as such, maybe to confuse us to take it

Seriously!

No love joins us after deaths, feelings separate,

Wreaths get burned with us, sans the smell

Of the flowers. It gets stolen by the funereal

Procession, along with disoriented nostalgia!

All equations remains unmatched at death,

All tedium grows into a silent delight,

We lay awaiting destiny, and our pact with

Life remains incomplete. So we wait,

For our final cells to grow into the roots,

We all die, We are all born again,

But not with an artist's perturbance, but

With a leaf's placid calm!