Death and Birth

“I had seen birth and death but had thought they were different” - T.S Elliot

Death is the cleaving of dreams from reality, the diving in of a neutralizing element called rationality and the realization of how redundant tears and hopes really are. Death covets and snatches away a bit of every loved ones soul along with its victim. Death brings to the forefront a need in onlookers to exaggerate and relive the happy moments and to overlook the flaws and faults of the victim. But for the one that truly loves him, who truly suffers, none of it matters.

For the one who truly loves the prey of death, the suffering is like that of a meandering rivulet of survival, trickling endlessly and monotonously…from the banks of reality to that of dreams…from love and pleasurable nostalgia to helplessness and desperation…from the very absence of an accurate comprehension of reality, to the very confrontation of the horrifying fate that has vanquished her joy…from belief to disbelief…from tears to faltering smiles...from strength to weakness and so on and on and on. Death is cruel yet merciful and one understands that, to one’s own dismay. She tries to survive by willing all the Gods she is familiar with, to provide her with the miraculous strength to either fight the debilitating effect of death or live with it and let it alter and change her life and herself.  

And in time one will understand that “Death is after all Birth”. The birth of tormented and incomplete souls, the birth of incredible and unreal strength, the birth of love, support and care from genuine quarters, the birth of loss and its accompanying sinister emotions, the birth of a completely new undreamed life for the ones left behind, the birth of a new set of aspirations crafted for survival, the birth of a quest for the meaning and meaninglessness of life, the birth of a new reality, the birth of a new “you”..a difficult and painful birth…the birth of death and the death of birth, all in one moment….