journey to its serenity

The moment of death is fixed.

Life is nothing but a journey to its serenity.

The moments in between.

Tears.

Conversations at midnight.

Death is a wide open embrace.

Somersaults of winds that bring the rain at night.

Dreams of summer bring nothing but crazy memories of brown skin against wet sand.

The moment of death is fixed.

Life is nothing but a series of steps up a hill.

Tumbling down sand dunes.

Salt water seeps between cracks and gnaws at the wound.

The moment of death is fixed.

Its muted tones leaves a trail of stillness.

I know what I knew then: Lying here would bring me closer to my maker.

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