Look. Look here. Here is death.
No. Don’t be afraid. It can’t hurt you. It’s dead. It’s dead and you are not.
Come closer. Come through the trees, over the earth. Wade across the stream. Step from stone to stone. The air is still and a little cold. Come here. Here to the body.
You can touch its face, kiss its cheek, whisper in its ear. Death won’t care. You can sing it a song or dance slowly from its foot to its hair. You can listen to its silent chest. You can scream and weep and turn away, vowing secretly to yourself that you will never grow old, never weaken, never stop. You will never learn from this teacher.
Hush now. Hush. Come back. Come back to death. Hear how your heart beats. Feel how your inside flutters with the vibration of time. Do you need to know what your life means?
Why, are you death’s boy, arming yourself with eternity? Has fear given you the strength you need to be alive one more day? Does fear comfort you with visions of order? Of justice? Death is laughing. Did you think it was laughing at you? Take a chance. Wave your arms in front of it. Pull down your pants and moon it. It doesn’t even know you’re there. Don’t be afraid. It’s dead and you are not.
The body is cold like the air. Stand with your feet in the palms of its hands. Reach up to the sky. Are you still alive?
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