A parable of life and death ……

 

When he comes I hope to say that I danced, I sang, I loved, I was loved back, I was happy, I saw, I went, they came, I fell, I rose, I cried, I sweated, I changed, I bled, I cried for the past, I looked to the future, I walked on water and I sunk, that I shone too bright for this world…..that I lived with intention.

To some degree we all fear death, we fear the unknown, we doubt the existence of the next life, we hate it that we must die and that this body will not hold lieu, and the money, might  and not even love will saves us. That this body we think is cast out of steel and fire will still die.

Death does not really bother me sometimes, sometimes i get by simply by drowning myself in ignorance of his coming .it is almost in a sort of mortal arrogance an oblivion of the future, the constant dwelling In the present, that it is not about to happen to me, it is not yet my turn, I am special. We rarely ever picture our death beds.  We as men have conquered everything else in this world but death and we hate it that something has persistently stood against us, that we could not domesticate death.

When he comes, I sort of feel that death will all of a sudden sound paradoxical, that at some point I cried over the loss of a loved one while he that takes all was slowly lurking, perhaps looking in awe at my ignorance and my complete oblivion of what is coming and my brief fugue of death, my misplaced priorities in life.  I think I will look back and wonder why I feared him and take comfort in the fact that the next life will be one straight predictable path, that the constant hustles of life will be no more, that I will finally be able to take my deserved rest.

There are however those that cheat death and rise above mortality, the few that dare to dream of living for ever, id wish be one of them. That decades to come, I will live in people’s hearts, for my life will be the message to the world and for that ,I will strive to be thankful for my little infinity that He has given me in my numbered days.

When he comes I hope to have no regrets, to have lived a fulfilling life, that I will be able to stand and say that I made an impact, that I made someone’s life better, that I left this world a better place, that decades after I am gone people will talk about me and what I did.

Life is like a book and every chapter holds something important in life, and every chapter is better than the last, so maybe his coming will be the end of one book and the opening of a new book with endless chapters. I hope that when I die, they will not stand on my grave and weep, for I will not be there, I will be the one thousands winds that blow across this earth, I will be free, I will cry no more.

If the angel of death is stuck in traffic, I will take this opportunity to enjoy my music, I will cook something new, I will learn a new instrument, I will crank my motorcycle, I will sing, I will teach, I will read a new book, I will inspire and be inspired, i will take a break off life, go for that vacation, love someone, be loved, make mistakes. I will not concentrate on petty arguments about money, politics and religion, I will be happy.

And when he comes, I will not look down in grief, I will be strong for someone will remember me when I’m gone. I will be happy for HE that knows the realms of this world says I am loved more than I will ever know by someone who died to know me.

-Antony mwangi

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