A thread of wonder weaves through my mind,
As I ponder the what-ifs, the paths left uncharted
What if this life had unfolded elsewhere?
Would love have found me, or would hate have been there?

Would peace have been my companion, or would it have fled?
The questions swirl, like autumn leaves on a windy thread.
Yet, in this moment, I am here, not there.

Welcoming Mourning

It is quiet because it is morn.
I don't like to look in the mirror
Because of what I see:
I look into death’s eyes
And see my reflection.
I see the death of hopes and dreams
And loved ones, I mourn,
Constantly.