life is ridiculous.
I ponder as I sit beside your grave...
This is what will come of me,
what will come of all of us.
We will one day lay in the ground
in a prestigious wooden box
(well, our body will, that is).
And where will the soul go?
So many souls. So many souls that are
gone, going. So many beings - individual,
beautiful, beings that have been
conquered by death. And more to come.
I've grown to hate this part of life -
the part where you're utterly forced
to face the fate before you,
that death is your destination.
I pity those who live but never acknowledge,
never surrender to the truth that we are fleeting.
Their thoughts of what is to come are scarce,
afraid to let their minds wonder, ponder, and question:
"With an impending death,
what will I do with my life?"