The Florence Baptistery of St. John - one of the oldest buildings in the city, and one of the most beautifully bright with local marble
Repost from @abhiandnow - In the dying sun,
I saw a river flowing away into an endless cycle,
And I wondered then,
What could be the meaning of birth and death,
Where every time I breathe,
I'm being lead to my last breath.
And the trees swayed and smiled,
The mountains just laughed,
The sun skipped the question to hide behind a cloud,
And the river uttered it out loud,
That there's no meaning in what I do,
And if I believe that,
I can be as meaningless as any one of you.
So maybe the question isn't flowing from outside,
For it has always been from within to without,
And no matter how loudly I shout,
The truth is that universe begins from me,
I exist for I believe,
And I find what I want to receive.
Is nothing else but the thought from where we begin,
As it has always been,
That the birth and the death is nothing but a thought,
Changing its phase,
To all our thoughts,
Is what this life eventually becomes.
And then all that remains is that,
Or to be dammed and die,
Is a question only we can answer.