"Everyday we do the rehearsals of death by sleeping.
Still we are afraid of death."
How will my death look like?
Will it be painful like the death in extermination camps (or death camps)?
Will it be ceremonious like the freedom fighters who sacrifice their lives for a noble cause?
Will it be peaceful like the poet connects to a parallel universe or another world?
Will it be anonymous like the children dying out of hunger everyday?
Will it be as inevitable as the falling leaves?
Or I will be immortal living in a world of deathless vulgarity.
Comments
Needless to say that I love your juxtaposition of pictures and text.