Death’s Kiss

I had a good friend who I was very close with during elementary and high school die yesterday.  She was always so optimistic and full of life. She had just had a baby and she died during complications. This is not my frist time dealing with death, but it the first time that it was someone I cared about so much. Someone I had spent almost ten years of my childhood with.

I am not a huge believer in heaven or hell or all the other religious hooplah. Up until now I believed you died, and that was the end of you. But today I find my self wondering and hoping that there is more to life and death than just that. That somehow, you will get to live on. Whether its reincarnation, or going to heaven, or finding nirvana, or going to Hades, I honestly don’t care. The scariest thing about death is the uncertainty that you and those you love will just stop existing. I don’t want to believe that my loved ones are gone forever. But then how can I be certain that they are not?

 

 

 

Uncertainty

The aftertaste from death’s kiss

Lingering on life

The Flower: A monologue about life’s fleeting beauty

What a beautiful flower that has just bloomed on the side of the road. Its petals unfurl in vibrant purple; fanning out to entice the forests’ life. Its face turned up to bask in the sun’s soft rays.  The strong emerald stalk stands tall and resilient against the wind that strums gently around my dark silk hair. The glossy leaves stretch out in either direction as if welcoming the strange new world it finds itself a part of. Young in its life. Strong in its youth. A prince and pauper. A princess and a maid. Worlds upon solar systems upon universes filled with possibilities engrained in every cell, every chloroplast that is bursting with life’s purest energy.

Shame. With all this possibility, with all this strength, with all this beauty, all it takes is the sweep of my hand, the stamp of my feet to blanch that brilliant purple, to snap that resilient stalk, to crush those outstretched leaves and extinguish this flower’s light.

Half a blink of an eye and the life is gone. How week, how pathetic, how fragile. And yet life holds more power within half a second than any one person can comprehend and more beauty within that one flower than any one person can take.