White is the colour of the paper and board we write on. The colour of eraser we use to wipe off the mistakes we've written. The sky brings it's brightness to the earth we live on. Breathing joy into the dry land and ocean. White is the colour of cotton inwhich our clothes were smitten. Our smiles that attract others, The moon that give wonders. The hair we wear when were all wrinkled and old. The last uniform to our heavenly abode.
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Burried down beneath the ingredient of your entity, your decay is the beginning of a new life. For your fragments mixed up again with the familiar atoms tremulous, you wake up in a entirely different world.
Your decay can be your freedom or it can be your captivity, its only up to you, how do you want to decay.
You decay, decay down the door of a new life. And yes, decay is just the beginning of transition.