Death…

Death is terribly final… especially to the dead and the dying.
Death is unbeatable, except by God, and even he had to sacrifice his own precious son to defeat it.
Death is intricately woven into the fabric of life. We write about death, try and depict death, fear death, even yearn for death at times when our soul is beyond repair, and yet death mocks us, ignoring us until our appointed time
I do not fear death…is what I like to tell myself. But I know it’s there, at times too close for comfort, always lurking about, waiting…watching…checking the sand left in my hourglass.
Death has no mercy, no compassion. Does death get time off for good behavior… or is it death for life? Who does death work for…the light or the dark? Does death have a retirement program, does it punch a clock with other deaths and go home to Mr. or Mrs. Death and little junior deaths, and satellite TV, and beer. Does death have higher aspirations… or is death proud of being death and bringing death?
“Death ain’t no joke,” my grand-pappy used to be fond of saying. He found out that was all too true first hand when I was still a child.
Death took my son when he was fourteen, after letting him suffer for almost two years, without so much as a thank you… or kiss my ass.
The truth of it is, deaths a motherfucker with no sense of humor and terrible timing. If you feel him coming for you fight back and fight back hard, because there is only death in death and no more for some…. no more.
Death is the purveyor of the process. It’s the one that takes you to the dance on the other side of things, than leaves you to face the music.
It doesn’t matter to death what happens to your soul after killing you.
All that death knows or cares about is death, and bringing death, and being death… and darkness.
Death is imminent…for all of us…including you.
©9/15                                                                                                                                           R.B. Tetro