What a thrilling and horrendous word it is!

Which only by hearing it, man falls into an agonizing

intensity: Obliterates smile from visage, From the hearts it strips glee, inflicts darkness and

despair, before eyes brings thousands of agitated thoughts.

Inseparable are, life and death. There will be no death without life, nor will there be any life

without death. From the greatest stars to the least whit, all shall die sooner or later: The rocks,

plants, livings, each are born one after another and become a mound of dust in the middle of

oblivion. Follows the earth its ramble in the infinite welkin, negligently; Nature resumes life off

their vestigial: The sun shines, the wind blows, the flowers scent the air, the birds chant, all

beings stir. The sky beams, the earth nourishes, death with his old scythe reaps life’s

gatherings…

Death tars all with the same brush and balances their fates: he knows no privileged and poor, no

highs and lows and in a pitch-black pit, silences man, plants and animals alongside. It is only in

the burial ground that the vicious ceases their tyranny; the guiltless is not tormented. There is no

inhumane or humane, in deep sleep the aged and youth immersed. How sedate and senere not to

see the face of dawn, hear not the outcry and anarchy of life. The finest haven to pain and

sorrow, suffering and injustice of life; at last, dies the torrid flame of lust; hostilities and

slaughters, brutalities and controversies, vainglories of human, all in the deep strait and bleak of

grave lulls and is pacified. If death was not to be, all would yearn for it; wails of despair would

raise to high heavens; nature anathematized. How indignant and intimidating would it be, if life

was to be everlasting? As galling ordeal of life, smothers the enticing brightness of youth; dries

the root of benignity; solidity, gloom and obscenity entangles. He is who ameliorates, who lays

the crocked figures, crinkled features, withered body in the tomb.

Oh Death! You mitigate the melancholy of life, lighten the burden; array the woebegone

bewildered; the antidote to agony, drowned in tears eyes, you dry; you are in shape of a benign

mother who embraces their child after a gusty day, fondle and guide them to the realm of dreams.

You are not the bitter life, the vicious life that drags mankind into vice and hurl, a frightful

maelstrom; you are who laughs at the inferiority and ignobility, avarice and covetousness of

human and draws a vail over their misdeed. Who is he that has not tasted the poisonous wine of

yours? They fancy horrific, your face and are elusive about you, suppose the refulgent angel, the

livid devil! Why dreads you? Why deceives and imputes you? Supposedly gloom while glittery

glint, blessed messenger of jubilation, but on your threshold, they wail; not the emissary of

mourn, but cure to the wilt hearts, you open gate of hope to the hopeless, you reflect hospitality

towards the caravan of fainted and fatigued, redeem the suffering of path and its lassitude, from

them, you deserve adoration, you possess the eternal existence.

Danial Bagheri