Life is too transient for my liking, too fleeting for good. Life is a mystery full of pleasant and unpleasant surprises.

Death, death, death

Man is here this minute, forever gone the next. He has planned for tomorrow, next week, next year, next decade. But all that is abandoned the second Mr. Death knocks on the door.

No amount of pain, of tears-shed and unshed, nor love, can cause death to change its mind. It must devour once it sets its sights on its victim. There is no reasoning or pleading with it.

How are the mighty fallen? The great tree, the abode of the birds, falls to the ground, the whole birds forced to flee for their lives, to seek another abode.

Ever lost someone you care for? How did it feel? Like it is a joke? Like it is a dream you will soon wake up from? Does it seem like she called your name just now or will soon walk through the door or maybe you should call her on the phone?

I do not know how to come to terms with it. I wish I could talk to you one more time, to ask you how you could dare leave your family with so much pain. Did you see it coming, maybe a minute or an hour before it came? Or maybe death sprang this gruesome surprise on you without warning.

Here one minute, gone the next, this transient life. It makes it seem like there is no need to struggle to live. We struggle to live only for death to kill.

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