The notion of death itself
Is what makes life so precious
To die of old age
Gives life to a child
Every outbreath
Leads to an inhale
With every rain
Flowers bud and sprouts emerge
The death of a cell
Leaves room for two to take its place
When a tree falls
Its matter nourishes the soil
The silence after a melody
Creates space for a new composition
It should be taught in school
To not be afraid of death
So that we welcome its presence
As kindly we do our own shadows, which are only born out of light
