Dear Companion

It is believably intolerable,

yet it steadies into peace,

terrifying with the first few moments,

until the conscious slips.

Relative to time,

falling alongside the sand,

dumping all your precious memories into an abyss,

as you sink past the surface that separates this from the invisible...

Death is said to be simply the beginning to an end,

a link we must cross to reach the other side,

a place divided into sections of rewards and redemption and the middle ground,

or a journey into our own hell that we must preserve through until we reach a deeper meaning.

Nevertheless,

death is but a puzzle of our unsteady life,

the balance to our rocky existence,

the equalizer of all,

the unknown justice that we seek.

It has neither a point of view of evil,

in which it decomposes our bodies, 

time decaying the fibers of our beings,

nor is it anything particularly beautiful,

so commonly seen in every day life,

yet it is mystical in that it escapes us as it catches us.

A villain that we escape or a dear old friend.