Layers [√]

[ on death & nostalgia ]

my week started with death,
the earth's oldest foe

it was ironic how something as morbid,
as taboo, as fearsome, and as sad as he
could become a catalyst in reminding me
that my existence in the cosmos is nothing
but a mere speck of blood and water
fused with the flimsy concept of mortality

life is indeed short
and in the next seven seconds,
your orbit around the sun
could not reach 365 days

i think the point of death is to remember;
all your good and bad days,
all your failures and successes,
all your sorrows and joys,
all your regrets and achievements,
all your loves and losses,
all your hopes and despairs,
all those things all those moments

everything that makes up the years
on all your birthday candles

the point of death is to remember;
you are right here
you are existing right now

and when your hands become soft with age
and your hair turn white with wisdom
and your eyes close with your last breath
the point of death is to remember
that maybe someone or something
awaits for you in the afterlife