Death, my perspective

From the moment we are born, we are destined to die. Every day we live we get closer and closer to our death. No one will escape its arms.

Everything has a cycle and nothing last for ever.

While attending my very ill and delirious father, Im finding my self face to face with death, she has been lurking around for about two weeks now.

Her presence is unmistakably powerful.

Absolutely palpable. I have felt her, a dense energy, literally a vortex, my heart flutters and skips a beat whenever she is around and anxiety kicks in. Such powerful force. She has been coming in and out for the past couple of days.

And it has occur to me that she is respectful, that she takes you when you agree to it, when you finally surrender.

The ultimate Psychopomp, for ages mistaken as evil and dark, and I can't help but to think that:

Death and this precious Psychopomp are two different things.

This Psychopomp is noble, the righteous soul companion, the ultimate guide, merciful. Is like a loving mother waiting with open arms after you very scary first kindergarten day.

I can't help but to think that she whispers in your ear; " My darling, are you ready?" I can't help but to think that she caresses your head and let you know that she is there for you. Full of compassion and unconditional love. I can't help but to think that she has mighty wings that she expands to nestle you in.

I feel this. . .

And Death,

Death is mundane, disrespectful, rude. It corrupts, transforms and reshape with her distaste. Is the oxygen in your lungs dissipating, your last exhale. Is the dissolution and discoloring of your flesh. How very rude and nasty you are Death, how dare you take away the image of person and leave a ghastly creature instead? Yellow, bony death, I dislike so much your vulgar touch.

Death, you blind eyes and make them unable see loved ones around, you mute lips and make them unable to whisper words of needs. You are devouring deafness, disabling a last chance to hear words of comfort and love, a favorite songs, prayers and chants.

You are despicable death, I hate you so...

And what am I to think of this as a Witch?

As living creatures of this Planet we all must go through this destructive process. And this is the great question that keeps running in the back of my head, Why is this process so degrading?

Maybe because after all we have been cruel to our Mother Earth, maybe because we are ultimately evil to our fellow humans and all the living creatures we share this planet with, or maybe because we must go through this, the ultimate humbling test in this life, the corruption of everything we hold sacred a mistake that is only through the process of dying we realized, because we have been arrogant and entitle.

But our soul, our soul is made holy, our soul is pure perfection that endures time and space, and is at last when we realized we need to go back to our basics and start all over, in a different time, a different space a different body, a brand new chance.