Who among us is friends with death? Who has played with the locks of his hair, pushed him into a puddle and exchanged poems? Who has played childhood pranks on him, heard his sneaky laughter in a corner during tiresome hide and seek? Collapsed into his arms and found comfort, peered into his eyes and saw kindness? Who has ever shared a meal with death? Or felt his warm lips kiss the backs of our hands, smiling warmly through the glories of life? Who has ever made a good business deal with Death, shook his firm hands afterwards and relish the future returns? Who knows death?
What we could know of him in the coldness of his lips of childish banter, is reduced to a kiss we feel but can never be mortal enough to speak about. We know of his shadow as he disappears into a nearby bush after callously throwing you in the way of a moving truck. We know how he smells, how he leaves a churning in our stomachs as we watch him go; we hear the echoes of his steps mingling with our cries when we slowly realize, he has passed by us. Some among us know death having shared a bed with him, his voice saying in awful monotone “Just stay still, you’re coming with me.” Some among us know death relived from a life that’s wasting away. But some did stay still, and watched their soul being transported to an unknown abyss, cold and dismal, to wait on eternity.
Death is no friend. Death is the enemy respecting neither adult nor child. And we stand in song under the blazing sun or rain, reminding ourselves why we should be stronger; because death comes either way. How feared he is, this uncultured rogue! Dear heart, take courage. We may lose. But death’s end is near.
“And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire.” Revelations 20v4