If Joint 50 is the last then I know that the things that I wanted to talk about would just be pages lost like vanished tapes.
If you know how your last breath is going to be then maybe, just maybe you wouldn't talk about it. If mine indeed is surrounded by shadows of my own self then I'm someone like Nostradamus. If it is like that same old way of traveling with the reaper then I wouldn't wanna know about it. Lying close to the loved ones, eyes dilated looking skinny trying to smile and holding the warmth inside trying to erase time that cannot return.
Mind is customary and can be molded in any form one imagines but some changes are undeviating.
"We begin and we end from ashes to dust and skin to sand.
Mother for heart and brother for mind, life for a puzzle and death to unwind
Father for soul and sister for fire, love for feelings and an endless desire
Closure for beginning and past for future but some roots of trust never nurture"
Something is about to happen, soon perhaps.
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