The End of the Story is a box book about grief and the afterlife. Encased in a coffin like exterior, is a poem that reflects on our lives as stories, and what we become when those chapters close, leading to our stories' end.
The funeral felt warm from all the love,
but cold from all the tears.
Death is just the end of the circle of life.
Even as the seasons change,
one thing stays the same.
For the leaves to fall is for them to die,
in the same way that when the snow melts, the season ends. When the flowers bloom, it is inevitable that they wilt, too.
So many feelings encircle ends.
grief weighs heavy, anger stands light.
We hide our true feelings with ones that let sparks fly,
because for a moment it lets us forget.
but cold from all the tears.
Death is just the end of the circle of life.
Even as the seasons change,
one thing stays the same.
For the leaves to fall is for them to die,
in the same way that when the snow melts, the season ends. When the flowers bloom, it is inevitable that they wilt, too.
So many feelings encircle ends.
grief weighs heavy, anger stands light.
We hide our true feelings with ones that let sparks fly,
because for a moment it lets us forget.
Feelings at the end, mirror our beginnings.
The anxiety to start becomes the fear of ending. When our stories are over,
words and thoughts are all that remain.
We watch while others share the stories of our souls.
We are no longer ourselves,
we instead manifest as the representation they tell.
Life is full of endings if you really think about it.
The moving of homes, the leaving of lovers,
the end of a chapter, and the start of a new one.
When we end things simultaneously with others,
our stories begin to intertwine.
The anxiety to start becomes the fear of ending. When our stories are over,
words and thoughts are all that remain.
We watch while others share the stories of our souls.
We are no longer ourselves,
we instead manifest as the representation they tell.
Life is full of endings if you really think about it.
The moving of homes, the leaving of lovers,
the end of a chapter, and the start of a new one.
When we end things simultaneously with others,
our stories begin to intertwine.
Our accomplices in life are those who stayed beyond our endings.
A series of endings leads to the end.
But isn’t that a beautiful thing?
Our endings frame our story,
and death is just,
the end.