Today I died, ascended to the sky, and became alive for the first time. In that moment, the collective's grasp on me collapsed, as my body was slowly wrapped in layers of sand.
While the hollow form sank into the earth's warm welcoming hands, men tore their shirts as they mourned the loss of a fellow comrade. The real reason they grieved was only to alleviate the pain from being shown their fate, having envisioned their own names written upon the grave. But this feeling soon passed, and was replaced with gratitude for the grim reaper whom they each hoped would choose them last.
I, a mere spectator, couldn't help but laugh, after witnessing all of them fall to the same mistakes that I made in the past. To hope is to lie to oneself over and over again, for only acceptance leads to a peaceful end. If one spurns the grave's attempts too many times, the more painful it will be once it claims the life.
So today, when death knocked upon my door, I answered happily, knowing that it soon would be over. And as I welcomed grim in and grasped his hand, I smiled at him and he smiled back. In an instant, my spirit vanished, leaving behind nothing but the past. In the end, I have conquered death, by simply acknowledging that it is the end. And that is all that matters.
"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;" -Edgar poe