Death Be Not Proud
-- John Donne

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

I can only mock death right now. Because I cant do anything else. The day my uncle passed away, I was telling the husband that its so wierd. All our life we try and keep ourselves away from illness and scratches and burns and minor headaches.. and then, in one minute, we die. What is the point really? I still cant believe he is gone. It haunts me randomly during the day. I have moved on, but then there is a moment, when I stop, think, and cant believe he is gone. The last I remember is when they all came to see me off at the airport. I try and think how death would be in the final moments of someone. The heart attack, the pain. Does someone realize this is it? Or they are only trying and thinking that it will be ok.
I hope I can remember my faith in my final moments. Its all a struggle to live, isnt it really. I went for a discourse today (found some Jains in Melbourne, yay!!) and he said, whats the one thing we dont need to teach a baby? Its food. The struggle to live...