THROUGH THE EYES OF DEATH

I had been looking for Death, that's not to say that I was suicidal. I did not look to Death for a touch, or a kiss, or an embrace. I only sought an understanding of Death. Most people identify Death as a person, commonly under the façade of a pale-skinned, black haired, enigmatic woman clothed in a black dress and carrying a tattered black umbrella to adumbrate the sun or the simulacrum of a towering, menacing figure in a black robe: one hand announcing his intent and the other, holding a scythe, revealing just how bad those intentions truly are. Death is both and it is neither. Death is not defined, it is formless, and it is all things for it comes to all on their terms but not always on their time.