Can we talk about death freely? Can we laugh? Can philosophize, discussing this topic freely, calmly? Why necessarily at one time or another, this thought, this idea of death back in our minds? Why can he get us to fear the worst for relatives, and why selfishly, we hope and we accept somehow that our congeners are in first line to meet her?
Death, for many synonymous with anguish, of absolute fear, has in my opinion certain qualities. It allows to define a framework to impose perfect justice. It can also take the form of a wonderful shortcut. In the atheistic beliefs, it is to compare it with this ghost with a scythe with the aim to collect souls, but this obsolete version seems slightly too naive and simplistic.
It is ubiquitous, it spilled much ink, it brightens up the stories, give back thrilling, it maintains a superb plot to the reader, and a fascination with those who want to be an accomplice. So easy to access, it does not require that a grain of courage to stage.
It extends the hand who is in need, it leaves falling person. Its attractive curves have made more than one crack. The escape is his specialty, the unknown remains his Kingdom. Its purifying helped animate the fight of men through the conflicts, the wars, the massacres.
She do not want wealth, the social environment, the success of each and other. She eats slowly sadness, dread, despair of the poor. Its small winks, her small mischievous smiles made jealous Morpheus.
She moved gradually in the flesh, it interferes in the thoughts, it can’t help to get noticed, some see that they, others forget and encounter by chance on the edge of a road, in the city, in the evening, at home.
Look, she dance in the flames, manifests itself in the ruins, she wanders in the forests, fields and lakes, it no longer holds in place. She seems so happy, so sure of herself, she has a head start on most of his opponents, because she knows very well, no one can resist delicious charm. And then finally, all her looks, all its prayers, its intentions, her crave to intervene. It is at the peak of his art that it becomes perfection incarnate, the last embodiment of thought. Witnesses subdued by so gracefully, eventually pay small tears as an ultimate offering.