The older I get, the more I ponder what lies next beyond the enigma of demise. Could it be a rebirth dangling like a mantra, a garment woven from yesterday’s dream threads? Could this shell be like a butterfly, a transitory attire, destined to shed when we finally stretch back our shoulders?

Moments assemble around my awareness like mourners paying their respects, each bearing witness to life's evanescent essence. Amidst the solemnity, there resides a poignant beauty, reminding me that even in death, the delicate threads of meaning endure.