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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #937326
Wrote this in a minute while waiting for a bus... odd subject.
Time as its unfolding,
rolls past my life with ease;
as on the reel film flowing,
never slowing nor moving faster,
through ill times and through laughter.

Death with its oncoming
presence, ever eluding -
and yet is always there -
to remind us of its coming,
sometime, somehow, somewhere.

Life with its exuberance
is but a dwindling roar:
think only of the Afterlife,
which knows no time nor death,
and lasts forever more.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/937326-Afterlife