Death is an unveiler

death beauty

Why does it take the misery of death
To manifest the beauty of the deceased?


You were something borrowed.
This world borrowed you for but a moment.
In that moment, your secret became manifest in your ability to multiply, to divide, to triple integrate time and subordinate your soul to many tasks,
to show God you’re worthy of the weight of responsibility.
The responsibility he gave to the mountains, that inevitably refused, because they could not carry it. Yet you, you walked with it in your rucksack, carried it with a smile, and with the sweat of your brow, spread it as far and wide as you could.

I look at your photo and can’t stop crying.
I don’t know what it is about death that makes one feel guilty.
Even though you are thousands of kilometres away, your death washed over me this overwhelming sense of shame and sadness.
I somehow feel responsible.
I only see your fight, you went out swinging, but will live on shining.
Rest in peace Sam. May God raise you to the highest ranks amongst the elite.
May you dwell in palaces of light.

Forgive me for my shortcomings
I never meant ill will, nothing was ill intentioned, only ill mannered. Forgive me.
Forever guilty

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