Death Knocks

As Fedor awoke from serenity he felt a rare sense of reinvigoration, rebirth even. Even so, Fedor was dying. Slowly. Dying of life, as we all do. Deep in thought, as Fedor so often was, he said to himself, “It’s so strange that it should all happen this way, why aren’t we infinite? Alas, we are finite and maybe for the better.”

I am going to die. Say it. Repeat it. Embrace it.

I am going to die. That is a powerful thought.

I am going to die. And I am going to live.

“People realize that death is at the end of every life,” Fedor reflected on his hardwood oak, “and they know that all their friends and family will die. But somehow they do not believe it could ever happen to them.

Before we die we will feel the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, valleys and hills of complete satisfaction and utter emptiness. We pump adrenaline, forge relationships, inflict pain, make love, hate violently, learn deeply, touch tenderly; we experience, and finally it is all be erased as everything is. Erased totally and completely with time; given no meaning or validation. But does that mean it never happened?”

As was usually the case, Fedor came to no conclusion whatsoever.