Sink into death’s dark warmth
Death has a hold.
It possesses me.
I’ve always been entwined with death. We know death, but we don’t all live it.
I’ve lived death. I began living death young.
I fear death, but as I grow older, I find inklings of passivity in regards to future non-existence.
Only the fool does not fear death, and greater is the fool who does not consider death.
I spent many hours whiling away my nights and days thinking of death. Of what it brought and foreshadowed, the eternity it promised. Death is different for each. If you are like me, death is a void. It is “unlife.” Death is a conjunction of immateriality. Done.
Death for many promises the beginning of something, and thus, they should not be afraid.
Lurking in every heart is an ember of doubt. Doubt expressed is sacrilege. Doubt is refutation of god’s promise. The more we learn to embrace doubt, the better we are prepared for Death.
Doubt is the elixir which cushions the hammer of death. The more we doubt, the greater grows doubt, and thus our hesitancy to accept miracles. Miracles are the destructive opiate of our humanity. Miracles destroy, they do not create. Miracles soften our constitution. We sought food, we sought shelter, we sought fire. And we sought miracles.
Death is brutal, cold and primitive.
Death springs and that is why he is fearsome. Death springs, he lurks, he surprises, he is the attacker we know lives. But we act surprised. Death is the jack-in-the-box surprise. We twirl this life and twirl and twirl and one day, he explodes out his cellar. And we act surprised. And the fear permeates our relentless existence.
Prepare for and study death. Think about it. A lot.
Each moment of your life should be an exercise in amazement at the magnificence of death. We should grow to worship demise. Don’t question or refute it.
Death is here for good. It is our choice to welcome it or vainly close the weak door against its powerful thrusts. Death requires devotion. Death is empty without our involvement.
Death is surprise. This is its violent power. But if we embrace it, the surprise is diluted. Shock is dampened. Live each moment as if death is knocking on our door…because it is. The greatest delusion is that death is far and unforeseeable. Swallow death whole daily with your bath and you will be stronger because the mystery of death will then not be laced with inhuman abruptness. Absorb death into your oozing tendrils. Death is friend. Death is not next, nor was it then. Death is now. Death enshrouds. Death is a cocoon. Your are dead now. Do not breathe, do not blink. We are ghosts. We lived and died and all else befell our momentary spell. We don’t know what we knew. Brevity awaits. Rather than fight the wall, let us decorate it.
Feel yourself sink. Listen to the slow sensation. And die. Sink. Sink deeply and lust for the dark warmth because you don’t know what it will bring. Some of us have died. We live again. Death can never breathe again. But you can act. Pretend, for it’s what we do.
Live the life you never had and shut up about it.