Romancing death.

Romancing death was easier than I thought;
He smiles and asks if I am afraid,
I laugh in response.

You smell so nice, he says to me;
I nod my head and tip my hat.
He asks me to come, and I am early.

I wear my Sunday clothes
’cause you bid goodbye in style.

There was never a moment this alive.

The sun shines on my grave

You’re like half-forgotten dreams,
and the perfect colour of night turning to light.

The time of restlessness and recklessness,
when pain is inconsequential and unimportant.

It’s like the moment after the laugh dies on the lips,
or just the beginning of a smile.

The tilt of the head, considering,
when the air is heavy with uncertainty.

I’m like a grave, newly dug open,
with sun shining, like on the first day of summer.

Place roses on my grave, decide now,
or come, lie here with me.

The answer.

Death is the answer. Death is always the answer.

Your whole life leads up to it. Every second you live is a second closer to ‘The End’.

You spend your whole life learning to live when no one will teach you to die.

The most ignored truth, the universal truth, the truth which makes us all, one of a kind.

You are after all as sure to die as anybody else in the world.

And then when we have to, when we want to, we want to live again, because we never really lived, because we were never really going to die.

What a waste. Instead of living like we are mortals, we die thinking we are immortals.

We must learn, we must accept the final truth, the last truth; to live in the truest sense of the word.

And when I judge no one’s life, no one should judge me in my death.