Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Musings of a Mongoose - 7. Thoughts on Fading Fire
There should be poetry in death.
Beauty, in the inevitable, the destruction of all that we know.
For all fires fade, and even embers die.
Yet we fear it, adding as much fuel to the fire as we can.
To slow the chill, that we might live through the night!
For oh, to see the day again! Another sunrise, another bright splash of color, never seen before by our eyes!
Each sunrise dies the moment it arrives.
Fading before our eyes like the cascading waterfall,
never the same from moment to moment,
Every moment fleeing toward the next,
Like ripples on the surface of the water,
The march of death rolls on,
And though we try to escape it, there's none that can,
For death is always the victor in the fight.
And yet we live again! Another reprise in memory and record, never forgotten by those who cherished us in life!
Each memory fades as surely as the sun.
All we have are ripples.
All we have are lives.
To live from moment to moment, chasing death as it chases us.
There should be poetry in death.
And let the verse be one of life.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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