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(October 24,1995 / Maine, United States)

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Beluga Whales Through Glass

I've thought of dying,
Of what dying may be like;
This is not new;
I've come to a conclusion;
To believe it is like the rain,
And when it rains;
The water on the leaves get
too heavy for them to hold
and all at once, the water rolls off,
Sounding like a little waterfall
This must be much like dying
Our body not strong enough
To hold up the life it has
so it decides to let go of life;
All at once
But then, where is the waterfall?
Is it the sound of life falling;
heard inside the dying mind
while the life is fleeing?
Or could it be the sound of our memories
playing fast in succession?
Will I see my first memory again,
the beluga whales through glass;
tiny fingerprints, grandfather's laugh?

Submitted: Sunday, April 21, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013


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  • Captain Cur (4/21/2013 12:50:00 AM)

    Very interesting thoughts and philosophy. Nice poem.

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