“a poem that questions whether death is an ending, or the moment someone else opens their eyes. If this life is a dream, who wakes when we die? Entitle it as " WHO WAKES WHEN WE DIE? "”

WHO WAKES WHEN WE DIE?

A whisper stirs in midnight’s breath,  
The world grown still, not fearing death—  
But musing, shrouded, quietly:  
Is this the last, or setting free?  
Under veils of slumber drawn  
Is life itself the fleeting dawn?

We walk our days as dreamers do,  
In halls of light, through skies of blue,  
Yet wonder, gently, why we part  
From waking mind and beating heart.  
Suppose, when final shadows fall,  
A curtain parts, uncovers all.

Perhaps our end’s a lantern’s snuff  
That kindles elsewhere, bright enough—  
Another soul, in other skies,  
Opens, blinking, newborn eyes.  
Their first sharp gasp, our last soft sigh—  
One dream complete, another nigh.

If life is but a woven sleep  
Where laughter floats and memories seep,  
Then whose pure eye awaits the dawn  
As ours close tight and we are gone?  
Does someone wake, their slumber done,  
As finite days and dreams are spun?

Oh, mystery carved beneath the skin—  
Could death be naught but change within?  
A sleeper sighs, a sleeper wakes,  
The river bends, a new course takes.  
Who wakes when we die? None truly know;  
Yet hope, like stars, will ever glow.

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