I walked the path, and I saw death.
It was sitting alone, drinking its coffee with glassy eyes, said that ‘this is way too early, even for a morning demise’
I then came by its side; poured on a cup of tequila since I feel way too sober, asking it about its work hours.
‘I don’t have one’ it said, ‘I am simply lurking in every step of the way. I don’t cut, I snarl’
I laughed. I laughed because it lies, I laughed because in this very morning we used to work as merry as in the pitch black. Death does not sleep. Death definitely does not wait. It plans. It wrote schemes as it meditates; it is the most punctual of all.
‘Then what is an early morning for you, dear agony?’
Its shudders shown that it is intrigued by my sudden curiosity. It did not see it coming.
‘I expect fear out of you young man, yet you asked and you asked and you drink. Way too strong substance for my taste’
‘An early morning is you’
‘Yes. You are not afraid, yet you have never been afraid. Death comes for those who has overcome the dread of dying’
‘So I have to be afraid?’
‘No. You have to be ready’
As it took its walking stick, put on its old and seemingly rusty bowler hat, I saw fear. I saw even much more anguish and pain as it goes to its ebb of presence.
It walked, very slowly to a place farther than the furthest sun. It is going home to its land, its dominion, where every single being lives there shall be cherishing death’s arrival; a reaction that no human should ever give to it no matter what. And when it was about to disappear; it ceased its rippling muscles for a few more words.
‘There it goes young man… you have now arrived in my morning’
We mortals are but shadows and dust — Proximo