Perhaps death is an error
because of a missing bracket-
somewhere
in our inbuilt programming codes
that fate forgets to correct.
Or
Perhaps death is a soft sand
where our ego wall crumbles
perpetually
to be its wholehearted, unfragmented,
and bathed sleeping mate
Or
Perhaps death, like black hole
is the boat to the other strange land-
intoxicated
with colours unperceived,
with sounds uninitiated.
But till we die, we are indestructible
And life is already short-
so why hurry ?
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