The Cycle Unending
Life's like a book with many a page,
Some filled with love, some brimming with rage.
In the end, the story closes;
Death's just rest, as one supposes.
Yet the tales are never done,
Even when we've lost the sun.
For in memory, we persist,
Our stories wrapped in the morning mist.
Death is not an ending cold,
It's a pause, if truth be told.
For in the words we leave behind,
A new beginning others find.
You ask, what lies beyond the veil?
An unknown journey, without a trail.
Yet one that we all have to take,
With new stories that we'll eventually make.
Think not of death as eternal night,
But a canvas wiped clean, inviting light.
For each end is but a starting bend,
A chance for a new tale to send.
The cycle's unending, you'll soon see,
For you're the author of your destiny.
Even in death, your story blooms,
A vibrant tale that forever consumes.
River of Time
In the river of time, we're all adrift,
Swift currents push, then slowly lift.
Each drop tells stories of regret and grace,
All leading to that final resting place.
Don't dread the river's ultimate bend,
It's not the end; oh no, my friend.
For rivers join the sea in a grand parade,
In endless cycles, we're remade.
Consider this as you sail your route,
Life's full of twists, there's little doubt.
But like the river, it will guide you through,
Toward adventures old and new.
Sometimes you're fast, sometimes you're slow,
In either case, you're sure to grow.
When you reach the delta, don't feel forlorn,
It's not an end, but where you're reborn.
For the river flows, both day and night,
In darkness and in the morning light.
And though you think you've reached the end,
Round the bend, new vistas to attend.
So do not fear the river's course,
Or the natural, unstoppable force.
Death's just a chapter in your tale,
With more adventures that never stale.
Sands Through the Hourglass
We all watch the sands of time,
Each grain a moment, each moment a line.
But what happens when the last grain falls?
Is it just darkness, just empty halls?
I say no; it's a fresh new start,
The beginning of another form of art.
Like sandcastles built anew each day,
Our essence persists in a different way.
We see time as a line, from start to end,
But what if it's a circle, my friend?
Death is but a single arc,
A pause before another lark.
Sands flow, yet the hourglass is turned,
And so our life's extended, earned.
In stories and memories, we persist,
In the hearts of those we've kissed.
So when the final grain does drop,
Think not of it as a final stop.
Instead, see it as a curve on your path,
Another equation in your life's math.
For even when we turn the last page,
We're not erased, but freed from the cage.
In the book of time, we forever last,
Beyond the bottleneck of the hourglass.
Echoes in the Wind
Our lives are but echoes in the wind,
A fleeting melody that's quickly thinned.
Death's not silence; it's a change in tune,
The opening note in a brand new rune.
For every echo travels far and wide,
Even when the original voice has died.
And so, in death, we find rebirth,
An eternal echo traveling through the earth.
No, we never vanish, never fade,
In memories and tales, we've got it made.
Even when our earthly song is done,
In the minds of others, we've just begun.
So speak your words and sing your part,
In the grand symphony of life, be smart.
Let your echo travel, let it roam,
Long past the time you've left your home.
In the wind, a whisper, a subtle hum,
An everlasting melody where we're from.
Long past our exit, our echoes play,
A timeless tune that will forever stay.
So don't fear death; it's not the end,
Just a corner where life's rules bend.
Your echoes will continue to sing,
A lasting tribute to life's every sting.
A Tapestry Frayed
We're threads in a grand tapestry,
Woven by hands we cannot see.
Death's but a snip, a single fray,
Yet the design holds firm, come what may.
What we've woven in love and strife,
Remains a part of the broader life.
Our threads are cut, but the weave's still tight,
In this endless fabric of day and night.
Each thread is vital, even when cut,
Each contributes, there's no "but."
For in the grand design, we always last,
An indelible mark on the present and past.
Death's just a rethreading, don't you see?
A rearrangement of life's tapestry.
We move from foreground to the back,
But never disappear, never lack.
We all play our part in the loom of fate,
Our threads intertwined, it's never too late.
Even when our physical form is gone,
In this grand design, we still live on.
So fear not the snip, the cut, the fray,
You're part of the tapestry, come what may.
Death's just a stitch in a never-ending seam,
A fleeting moment in a never-ending dream.
The Moon's Final Phase
Look to the moon, ever-changing yet the same,
An endless dance, a universal game.
The final phase, it fades from sight,
But returns anew, a crescent of light.
Death's just a phase in an endless sky,
A brief goodbye, not a final sigh.
For like the moon, we'll return anew,
A different phase, but a view that's true.
Have you ever watched the moon glow?
It never stays the same, this we know.
From crescent to full, it shows its grace,
A timeless rhythm in an endless space.
When it wanes, do we say it's gone?
No, we know it'll return, like the dawn.
Though the moon may hide from view,
Its essence remains, forever true.
So when you ponder death's mystery,
Consider the moon's eternal history.
It waxes and wanes, but never dies,
Just like us, under the celestial skies.
Look to the heavens when you're feeling small,
The moon's phases are a lesson for us all.
Death's not the end, but a change in scene,
A new act in life's ever-changing routine.
Garden of Life and Death
We are flowers in a vast garden,
Blooming bright, our leaves unharden.
But every flower must one day wilt,
Leaving behind the love it's built.
In the seeds and roots, we find our way,
A part of the garden, we forever stay.
Death is not an exit; it's a different role,
A transformation of the eternal soul.
Every bloom must one day fade,
But its seeds in the earth are laid.
And from these seeds, new life springs,
New blooms with colorful wings.
So when you fear the setting sun,
Think of the new life that's begun.
For each flower that bows its head,
A seed for future blooms is spread.
We're all a part of this endless cycle,
A constant play, a celestial recital.
From seed to bloom, then back again,
Life's eternal loop, it has no end.
Death's but a winter in an endless year,
Spring will come again, have no fear.
The garden renews, as will you,
In a different form, but forever true.
The Unread Pages
We’re all books upon a cosmic shelf,
Each life a tale told to the self.
But what happens when we reach the end,
When the final page is penned?
Ah, but a book is never done,
Even when its spine is shun.
In the hearts of those who've read,
The book continues, enough said.
Death is not a closed book, you see,
It’s just tucked away, like a mystery.
People will pick it up, read a line,
Your tale resumes, defying time.
An ending? No, it’s a cliffhanger,
With more adventures, don’t you pander.
For in each reader's mind, you stay,
Your story grows in a different way.
So worry not about the final page,
It’s not the end, but a different stage.
In every heart, your tale unfurls,
A lasting echo in this fleeting world.
The unread pages are your legacy,
A chance for your tale to be free.
Even when you’re gone, your story thrives,
In whispered words, your spirit survives.
Stardust and Ash
We're made of stardust, so they say,
Celestial bodies in a grand ballet.
But what happens when the dance is done?
When we've circled our final sun?
Well, stardust we are, and to stardust return,
In the cosmic furnace, where stars burn.
Death is not darkness, or a plunge into black,
It's a return home, no looking back.
We're all stardust, in endless flow,
In every cell, the universe we show.
Death is but a change in form,
A reconfiguration of the norm.
So when you look up at the night sky,
Know you're seeing old goodbyes.
Every star could be a past life's glow,
A cosmic legacy, this we know.
Think of death as a star's repose,
It's not the end, as the universe shows.
For each element in you and me,
Will forever be a part of the cosmic sea.
So fear not the end, it’s a new birth,
A chance to rejoin the cosmic hearth.
To stardust you shall return, it's true,
A part of the universe, forever you.
The Immutable March
Time marches on, come what may,
Night follows day, then breaks to gray.
Death is but a setting sun,
A day that’s done, but not gone.
For with each dawn, a new chance,
A different circumstance, a fresh stance.
In memories and in dreams, we reside,
Even when we've crossed to the other side.
We think of time as a line we cross,
But what if it’s a spiral, not a loss?
Death is but a twist in the coil,
A brief respite, a temporary recoil.
Like the seasons, we have our time,
Spring’s new bloom, winter's sublime.
Death is not winter's everlasting night,
It's the pause before a new spring's light.
So fear not time's immutable march,
Even when you’re its departing arch.
For every end is a new beginning,
A different chapter, a constant spinning.
In the grand tapestry of time,
You’re an essential rhyme, a vital chime.
Death’s not an end, but a transition,
Another moment in your endless mission.
By Sam Rodriguez
