they say death ends all our woes.
i do not know. not yet.
maybe soon. or later. or never.
my bible tells me my soul is immortal.
even other holy books.
and the internet.
it is hard to understand death.
we run away from it every day,
like monks avoiding the touch of sin –
but it’s all encyclical and vaguely brusque.
truth is: death has a way – of making us make
our way back to her macabre bosom.
i have decided to write this like i am drunk,
even though I’m not. seriously, i’m not.
i don’t feel like versing mystic aphorisms.
not on this. people get bored easily.
so, I’ll make this simple. very simple.
death screws with us all. a lot.
it takes the pearls and leaves us wondering
if God really cares about our miserable lives.
death sucks out the things that matter,
leaving dregs, dirt and regret as souvenirs.
Ah… death! alright… i’ll make it simpler:
death is the middle finger that life
points at us all as it whispers her
cold, numbing words in our mundane ears:
“Hey! Nobody has the right to be arrogant!”
– Pat Ashinze