Does a soul ever die, or drift past the veil,
When breath is but wind and the flesh turns pale?
Is death just a door that creaks open slow,
To fields beyond time where the stilled ones go?

Do we vanish like echoes that fade in the air,
Or whisper through dreams to show we were there?
A flicker, a shadow, a name softly said,
Do we live in the hearts that remember the dead?

Maybe the soul, like a flame, just transforms,
Not lost in the dark, but reshaped by the storms.
Perhaps we're the stars in a deep endless sky…
No, a soul never dies, it just learns how to fly.