At the edge of death,
where silence breathes,
A fragile soul in twilight wreathes,
The world grows dim, yet sharply clear,
A whispered truth, both far and near.
The heart beats slow, a fading drum,
Each pulse a step to what will come,
Between the now and what’s to be,
A trembling bridge to mystery.
Fear and peace entwine their dance,
A final glance, a last expanse,
Of memories, regrets, and dreams,
Flowing like soft, elusive streams.
The edge is neither dark nor light,
But something held in quiet flight,
A breath suspended, time undone,
A moment lost, a setting sun.
Here, the soul begins to see,
Beyond the veil of what will be,
A vast unknown, a sacred door,
Where life’s great journey is no more.
Yet in this place of shadowed breath,
There lies the seed of life in death,
A promise whispered, soft and deep.
That from this edge, new worlds will leap.
So stand with courage, not with dread,
At the thin line where life is shed,
For death’s edge is not the end,
But where the soul and stars ascend.