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March: On Death
March 17
Today's reflection was inspired by the poem "Death" by William Butler Yeats.
Death walks next to you every day. He stands over your bed every night. You brush him off and say, “Not yet,” but with courage, you do not tell him to be gone because you know Death to the bone, like an old friend. He’s a part of you, just as much as your fingers or hair.
The experience around Death is a stage play written by man.
It is in this way we have created him.
It has been dramatized like dialogue between a lover speaking down to her darling from a balcony beneath the stars that they would defy. It has become an event to fear and even loathe—one that consumes more of your time in living than the actual moment itself.
You have created the draft of Death in life, but it is in your power to edit it. So, how will you?
By Eastin DeVernaMarch: On Death
March 17
Today's reflection was inspired by the poem "Death" by William Butler Yeats.
Death walks next to you every day. He stands over your bed every night. You brush him off and say, “Not yet,” but with courage, you do not tell him to be gone because you know Death to the bone, like an old friend. He’s a part of you, just as much as your fingers or hair.
The experience around Death is a stage play written by man.
It is in this way we have created him.
It has been dramatized like dialogue between a lover speaking down to her darling from a balcony beneath the stars that they would defy. It has become an event to fear and even loathe—one that consumes more of your time in living than the actual moment itself.
You have created the draft of Death in life, but it is in your power to edit it. So, how will you?