death.
What is life but a series of events, strung though the threads of time,
The strings of events both great and small, each a pearl in our memories..
There is a time for everything.
When we are budding, we experience growth, a series of "firsts"... the first step, first word, first teeth.
As we grow, the first fren, the first test, the first failure.. etc etc..
In time, we know the effects of time by what our peers do. What happens at the natural course of time... is just natural. Tragedy is where events happen before their time.
Death comes to us all, a decided fate the moment we first drew breath. We will all surely die. Yet, it is the manner of death,a nd the time of death that separates the tragic from the predestined.
He left a happy man, after years ravaged by cancer. Assured of his salvation, living life to its fullest, there is no other better way to leave than his. Yet. 28. So young. So much more. So much less. So much. So?
Death happens to us all, and the years are but a string to hold our memories and deeds together. So what if he has a shorter thread, if he has done more in his short life than many with their longer ones?
He has gone first. All we have left is his string of pearls. His blog. His pictures and paintings. As I looked at his corpse, dressed in his trademark jeans and t-shirt, collected in silent repose... one of the pearl in the string named Kelvin
The strings of events both great and small, each a pearl in our memories..
There is a time for everything.
When we are budding, we experience growth, a series of "firsts"... the first step, first word, first teeth.
As we grow, the first fren, the first test, the first failure.. etc etc..
In time, we know the effects of time by what our peers do. What happens at the natural course of time... is just natural. Tragedy is where events happen before their time.
Death comes to us all, a decided fate the moment we first drew breath. We will all surely die. Yet, it is the manner of death,a nd the time of death that separates the tragic from the predestined.
He left a happy man, after years ravaged by cancer. Assured of his salvation, living life to its fullest, there is no other better way to leave than his. Yet. 28. So young. So much more. So much less. So much. So?
Death happens to us all, and the years are but a string to hold our memories and deeds together. So what if he has a shorter thread, if he has done more in his short life than many with their longer ones?
He has gone first. All we have left is his string of pearls. His blog. His pictures and paintings. As I looked at his corpse, dressed in his trademark jeans and t-shirt, collected in silent repose... one of the pearl in the string named Kelvin
Comments