Time and Death

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"It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world"

John Steinbeck

Death is a scourge, death is a stigma, death is that border that separates us from life, and that takes us to the most there. Death is ugly, death is a wound, death is this nightmare never awaken. Death is that performance that always occurs to others, death is the land that someday we will have to step on.

Within this universe of hardship that configures the death there are good deaths and bad deaths, death is the most effective love test to recognize love separating it of whims and desires, love is a sacrifice and a delivery that puts the life of the loved one to their own existence.

Humanity lives surrounded by crime and death, death is a lucrative business that never falters, there are burials of first, second and third category, but death in any of its manifestations, in wooden boxes, stainless steel, cardboard, or in the muddy Earth of genocide all leaves us just as defenseless with life, death is always a drama, that is true, ugly over and over again, but as the time comes, and despite the ugliness, you have to take action to live life rushing it over and over again.

I fully agree with Mr John Steinbeck, death in any of its manifestations irrespective of the age of the deceased person, never brings anything good to the psyche of the survivors, when those people are not psychopaths.

There are and have been around people who should not die ever, against others who had not to have ever existed, the only positive aspect of death is that everyone is equal, heroes and villains, rich and poor, illiterate and illustrated sooner or later they have to roam these dark landscapes that draws the grim reaper.

There is no ethical code of the West no logical explanation in relation to the death, a fact so natural and so far-reaching should be studied in public schools since the early years of life, the same importance is studying other subjects, understanding and accepting death as a natural fact, you can understand and better rating that time of life that everyone has to live.

The death continues and will continue being at the service of the horror, referred to distant and diffuse, until one day without warning the cold hand of death touches us the soul.

We are born and we die with the same natural blooming an olive tree under the rays of Sun, despite that there are good and bad deaths dressed placidity or rancor, the pageantry never gives or removes anything, you can die in a bed of cardboard and be an excellent person and die between cotton, silk and being a criminal, a creeping or a scoundrel.

If death is addressed with the importance that requires the subject, the world would be a safer place, more clean of filth and less petty, personally and in relation to the death I position next to the Aboriginal peoples of North America, cultures that despite the centuries, the virtues of progress and despite the various genocides they resist to disappear from the planet, and that today, possibly they are the salvation of America

Death is a cold pond,

Where bathing is the soul,

Death is a knife,

It plunges in the throat,

Death is a whisper,

Or a cry in the morning.

Death and Me.

In her life there are moments joyful, glorious and moments that as Pedro Casariego, we wanted to blow your brains out or throw us into a train, but life despite not being valued is a glorious gift that is due respect and look at us in those millions of people who struggle daily to survive, despite persecution and genocide.

They are glimpsed again on the horizon apocalyptic visions of Bertolt Brecht, with corrupt companies that support and supporting unjust governments as you proclaim abominable laws and that dictate sentences that go against the principles more basic of the freedom.

To respect life no need to delve through the corridors of pain and misery, just look a newscast, or look at Estephen Hawking when striving to a lecture on black holes.

I'll be a shadow chinoiserie,

A message in the time,

I will be a cool breeze,

A silence to the awakening.

I will be a dead time,

A taste on the palate,

I will be a frozen life,

A verse without singing.

We'll be who we were,

What we will be,

We were who we are,

And what we are will be.

I'll be a rhyme burlesque,

A sob to cry,

I will be a dry Ivy,

An eternal gallop.

I'll be a shadow chinoiserie,

A taste on the palate,

I will be a cool breeze,

A silence to the awakening.

Lucas Lazar. Telling Legends.

PS:

Death is a hard trance that afternoon or early all living beings have to undergo, good and bad people, with hands empty or filled with jewelry death is that train... in advance and at other times sometimes, with a delay, always... always arrives, and meanwhile, like Steinbeck, We enjoyed the wait and try to live.

Despite progress life remains a mystery, flanked by death, there are deaths that we feel alive and invisible living people in the eyes.

A hug for Everyone.

"Her death is a river that arises from the heart, death is a dagger which tears the reason, death is a wound, a shot of aberration"

Death and Me.

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