The Welcoming Person

It was then that I accepted its presence,
Seizing my right hand pulling it forward,
It felt cold at first with sparks of scariness,
Except, warmth began its novel exploration.

It kept emotionless, silent, hardly any motion,
Whilst walking towards a known destination,
I felt the urge in knowing the person I follow,
The urge to start a new friendship, a new era.

There I spoke to the form in front of me,
With a continuous, slow but steady pace,
The silence broke into several black ravens,
All landing gently on the shoulders of it.

It was then that I rejected its opposite,
Finishing the last lines of a history book,
Pleased as I flick its pages then I close,
Entering the place, breathe my last breath.

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