Dirt

Blankets of time to polish my rhymes.

Beauty in the world

Continues to unfurl

 

Like an endless blanket of dreams

Reality stitched together but falling apart at the seams

 

I thought I was told

That someday I`d grow old and die

 

But I don`t care

Because every breath is precious in this air

 

The wind blows

And I feel kind of cold

 

Waiting for the blanket of my existence to unfold

Hoping that there will be new fabric afterward or a way to reroll

 

When I wake up and get out of the bed of life, leaving it behind

Will there be a new spot for my soul to lie? On a blanket of memories? Give me a sign

 

Feeling the pull of reasons to live

Leading me towards my goals

 

I`m full of passion now

But someday I’ll be dead in the ground like everyone else. How?

 

I’ll stretch further into the sky, staying warm in the blanket of time

My eyes wide so I can see every sight

 

Pillows of goals and reasons, like clouds in the sky

I’m watching every moment of my life going by, but it can’t go on forever

 

I am on a priceless journey, but one that will end in death

So I cherish every breath

 

Because what the heck?

I was given a back and neck so I could carry on

 

I wonder if there will be a new blanket to warm my spirit in the afterlife

Or if I’ll be stuck in the ground underneath a blanket of time and dust

 

But all that matters is right now

So thinking too hard doesn’t matter anyhow

 

I’ll live life with everything I have, and carry on through love, spreading it like a blanket that will cover the world in happiness

 

Even if that blanket will eventually be taken off, and used as a rag

 

I’ll take a bath in the blankets of existence, drowning in love until I find a place above.

 

And cover my body in dirt

Author's Note

I'll continue to sharpen my skills, and hopefully, one day I can write a poem that thrills.

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Najam Us Saher]

Death is a fact and bitter truth of life. There is no escape to it. You have creatively very nicely wrote about those emotions. Well done.