..is no magic.
The life of a being disappears before our eyes. We palpate and feel no more beating, we auscultate and hear no more rhythm. The body seems to have nothing left but just traces of what we saw and what we once lived with, that happy and cheerful soul that always greeted us in amazement. Our memory has just started to fill in the gap.
I start to ignore the lack of response, movement and subtle signs of life in this person. I sustain my belief that this person has not left me, but has just fallen asleep. Everything seems to fit my cognition, because this is just how I saw him when he falls asleep --- as if he carries with him in his dreams the wonderful thoughts he had during his wakeful hours --- peace and serenity. But reality sinks in, he is already in his wakeful state where he has started to live his dreams, and while I, left here, still dream of living the life I desire.
That same soul sees me, and looks at me, as if to wonder why I sorrow. He looks as if he wanted to make me forget about sorrow. That in his better understanding, he wanted me to experience not just ephemeral joy, but eternal happiness.
If life is a miracle, how do you beg to differ?
I am not the opposite of life. Just as indifference, and not hatred is the opposite of love. I am merely a transit point, an experience that will only happen once, and never again.
With death, comes life, with death, comes a miracle. Death is no magic, but a miracle gravely misunderstood.
0 ruffleschmuffled:
Post a Comment