The distance between life and death
September 13, 2011
To decide it toddled or strolled was difficult for it appeared
too tiny to judge except for realization that it was a carefree baby spider on
my diary. Dear diary, did you realize that tiny moving sphere is a spider
reading your secrets? Hey you little fella, let me escort you to the edge but then
promise me you would jump off with your string to the safety.
Ah infants! They are so adamant with elders. I gently push
it over the page of my diary. I and my diary watch while it played with my
fingertip trying to resist the restrained roaming on a fresh page of diary that smelled like fresh spring.
But the distance was too small between the life and the
death and gentle force proved brutal for fragile life. In a moment what was left was a
small red drop on the corner of an empty page. The life is as fragile as the
flesh it wears.
‘Dear diary, here on you is the story of a fragile life in a
dot of blood. Good night. RIP, little fella.’
Here before me lies the flesh and blood
Yet I think and talk of cheerfulness it showed,
Could he then be gone and done
By just an end to the flesh he wore?
Yet I think and talk of cheerfulness it showed,
Could he then be gone and done
By just an end to the flesh he wore?