The Death of Love

"For dust you are and to dust you will return."

These words from Genesis were on my mind as I stood there in the cemetery, staring at her grave. It was just like in the movies;

God turned his tears into a heavy rainfall which didn't only cover us with water but with depression and affliction, too.

The skies were a colorless gloom which sent lightning to the Earth, striking the muddy, dirty ground.

The wind which gently woke me that morning has now turned into a tempestuous, stormy gale, devastating trees and other plants in the graveyard.

Standing there, letting the rain make me wet-through, I suddenly remembered something that a wise man once said:

"Only love and death can make a man cry."

How right he was...

My teary, empty eyes were staring at her tomb under which her lifeless body had been placed, reliving past memories, re-experiencing past events, re-creating past moments.

Most kids refuse to close their eyes which they know is the immediate pass-through to the world of dreams.

They refuse because they know that creatures are hiding in the dark.

Most are scared of monsters.

Most are scared of monsters. Some are frightened of ghosts.

Most are scared of monsters. Some are frightened of ghosts. A few are terrified of the darkness which is more often than not associated with the fearful unknown.

When I was a child, however, I didn't fear monsters.

Nor did I fear the dark.

Blackness has, somehow, always been sort of calming for me.

What kept me awake instead was the mere thought of death.

Not mine, though, I'm not afraid to die.

It was my loved ones' death that kept my eyes wide open,

It was my loved ones' death that kept my eyes wide open, forcing me to think about it.

My friends,

My friends, my family,

My friends, my family, everyone I loved.

The inexplicably excruciating feeling of uselessness and madness produced long hours of sleeplessness and thinking, alone in the blackness.

Perhaps I was the creature hiding in the dark...