Death, I think, is deeper than time,
yet no so deep as faith can be. Life,
some say, is the more eternal, though
others will say that oblivion is to be
our final homes, all: not where one
knows nothing, but absence of know
itself — for a trace few an idea of their
Heaven. Let me not say very much more
about death; let me not speak anything
of its mystery. We give to it already
too much. It drains us of our tears,
rips our hearts from our chests, robs
us at our end of the entire world.
No more: let death speak for itself.
Raven
8:41pm saturday, 14th february
This made me cry for I have been seeking a prespective on death. For a long time and could never find one. Untill now thank you!
Raven