Fallen Comrades

Everybody dies.

Some of us disappear suddenly, sliced out of existence with such violence that we leave behind gaping wounds that bleed sunlight slowly through the hole of our former existence.

Some of us are eaten, burned, starved or plucked from life with little warning.

Many of us live to the end, clinging to life with such tenacity that even in death we hang on until our desiccated fingers are sucked away in a gusting wind and we fall, slowly, drifting on the air, to the ground. There, even in death, we provide joy and beauty to those who chance by and see us, fallen, frail and old, ready to rejoin the earth and start again.


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