Death is the ultimate high.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep, you’re alive.

Sunrise

waited for you in the night.

You died. Sunrise, I’m dying too.

High in the sky, where the birds don’t fly.

Where the leaves don’t sing;

where questions lie.

 

Where water flows as the fire melted.

Soil burns, as wind projected.

Buried in time, you try to fly

Buried in time, you try to find

A meeting place of day and night.

Death is the ultimate high.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep, you’re alive.

Sunrise. 

 

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

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