Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
John Donne, ‘Holy Sonnets’
I fear Death; I fear it because I have been conditioned to fear it. This conditioning isn’t to do with Death itself, but my own sense of individuality. What I fear the most? Losing myself. And so, because death will strip me of my individuality, it scares the hell out of me. So I learn to let go of any idea that I will be me after death. I can then realise that I will be part of the whole; Death will be respite from Life where I will be no more.
I don’t fear Death, I don’t welcome it nor do I want it to go away. It is as it should be, the ultimate rest. And so, that means I will strive to earn that rest until the time comes when I cross that threshold.
Until I go to join the great Optimus Prime in the sky. Yes, the Transformer. We are all but Bumblebees, Ratchets and Ironhides fighting on until well…