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AFTER DEATH - ALEXIS KARPOUZOS

After death,
I will not be gone—
I will be wind, touching your skin,
I will be silence, deep within.

The body fades, the name dissolves,
But the soul—
The soul returns to the rhythm of stars,
To the breath before beginnings,
To the light that dreams all forms.

There is no end,
Only a door swinging inward.
I become the question and the answer,
The seed, the flame, the sky undone.

I will not speak,
But you will feel me in stillness—
When time pauses,
And your heart remembers
That it too is part of the infinite.

Blossom of the Sun

The sun, glowing, brighter than ever
A beautiful sight, eternal
Hoping it will be there forever
Penning this down in a journal
Hoping in a way, it will leave never

The sunset, the twilight hour
Where the sun meets the ocean
The golden light rains down in a shower
It is a mystical potion
The sun, blooming upon the sea like a flower

When The Stars Forget To Speak

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.

Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?

So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...
Living without you.

When The Stars Forget To Speak

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.

Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?

So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...

The Hallways Still Echo

It’s been two years, but still, the hallways call. Not just halls, portals, where I first learned to stumble before learning to stand tall. I miss the clang of locker doors, the wild stampede at the lunch bell’s cry, the way dismissal tasted like freedom, bittersweet, fleeting, a sky unstitched with every goodbye. We ran—God, we ran, like wind without reason, brushing past rules like dust off the edge of a better season. Teachers raged, their patience thin, we were chaos.

Those We Love

Those we love do not go away; They stay beside us every day. They’re with us in the morning light, And sit with us in the twilight. Sometimes they come to our room; It’s believed they ward off approaching gloom. We can feel their presence near, And wonder at its mystique, without fear. Those we love can be our inspiration, The foundation of our creation. We know that one day they’ll be gone, And we’ll see life through the eyes of another dawn. We write odes to preserve cherished memories; Bit by bit, they become stories.
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