We Are Too Mortal

We were not meant to die. I know it. See how the life in me cries out for living. Whenever a friend dies, however remote and distant from my circle of daily encounters, there is a solemn hush; a pause that cuts into whatever mundane activity I had planned for the day. It's a quiet rebellion for the outrage.

We were not meant to die. For while all the other dimensions: height and breadth and length are expanders--extending our reaches in two directions--time only goes one way. Time is broken. We gasp at the flying of days and the fearsome reflection that ours are numbered, that all those we love are getting older and falling. No.

We were not meant to die. We were meant to soar on angel wings, to plummet and not crash. We were not meant to spend our physical lives repairing what deteriorates. We were meant to "grow in wisdom and understanding and favor with God and man".

We were not meant to die. And so we sing sad songs and wrap our arms about ourselves and others. We hold on to the life we have, lest it slip. We take comfort in prayers and the arms of our Creator. For it seems we've fallen into a hole, a dark and dreadful hole, so we dare not kick the ladder. Above we see the light of a world as it was intended to be...and will be...when we are once again immortal.

When death is dead and gone, our lives will once more carry on, and the solemn hush of awe we feel for the passing of Death will give way to shouting.

We were meant to live. And we shall.