Death Has No Dignity

When death is at hand, it will rob the very essence of a person. Life escapes from the human body. The soul vanishes; where it goes, I do not know. What is left, the vessel in rigor mortise; lifeless and useless. Deformed, instead of beauty and grace.

Death is inevitable. Are we ready for it? How are we going to go? Nobody knows for sure. But all of us know, we will have our ending. What are we going to do about it?

Would you rather treat every moment as if your last? What are the things you wanted to do; if you know, you only have a year, a month, a week or a day to live?

What is the purpose of death then? A timer, for us to make our lives worth living? To be more conscious of our mortality? Or to let us rest for this agonizing, yet somewhat beautiful place of ours?

Death is the end of mortality. The start of oblivion and precipitation. We will soon be forgotten, maybe remembered thru stories, but we become part of the past.

 by: The Inkler