Poetry An Old Friend

[Walliver]

There was one who died for power
One who died for love
One who greeted death as an old friend

And this morbid fascination with death and all its enchantments
This terrible wonder of how everyone ends but leaves something behind
A skeleton that once held flesh and soft organs
A body that still holds a skeleton together

And this gory interest of the younger generation
The thought of what happens when one perishes
The hope of afterlife, the hope of a savior
No one hopes the same way, everyone dies in the end

Perhaps we are fascinated with death because life is impossible to grasp
Perhaps we look to death in wonder because life is unbearable
And maybe we look to death for confirmation that our beliefs are true
That there is either nothing after death, or something truly wonderful

There was one who died for power
One who died for love
And one who greeted death as an old friend
There is no right way to die
There is, however, a right way to live
Even with this morbid fascination with death