04/14/2025
đż The Doorway đż
âa poem on death and gentle goodbyes
Death is not the end, but a doorway,
A hush between the notes of a song.
A breath drawn in at twilightâs edge,
Where souls remember where they belong.
It comes not loud, but like a tide,
Retreating softly from the shore,
Taking with it what was borrowedâ
Leaving love, and something more.
It wears no cloak of fear or spite,
But whispers like a trusted friend:
âCome rest, come drift, come be the light.
This is not a fall, but a bend.â
For those who stay, the ache runs deep,
Like rivers swollen from the rain,
Yet in the silence after weepingâ
Hope blooms quietly through the pain.
So grieve, and sing, and light a flame,
For every heart thatâs said goodbye.
They are not lost, but simply changed,
Like stars once hidden in the sky.
â¨đď¸
