Silent storm

I see it in a dead rose
A lifeless corpse of a flower
That remains beautiful and delicate in its death
I see it in a thunderstorm, you love to watch
It’s almost comforting to listen to
But you fear to be a part of it
The rawest form of beauty I have come to know, tragedy.
This isn’t about the rainbow after the storm
This isn’t about heaven after death
This is about the pain that sparks and makes you sick
The pain that reminds you to hug your wife longer
The pain that reminds you to love your dog harder
The pain that reminds us it’s all temporary
Without death, without an end
The beauty in life would not exist
We are all the storm
Beautiful in its prime
But in a flash of light we disappear and leave silently
We are all the rose
Even in death the life we left behind is still beautiful

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