Why all is so quite in the empty darkness of the grave?
Who would I be on taking my last breath? something I used to be? Or someone I no longer know?
We bury the dead with such confidence that strikes me with doubts whether the grave diggers are immortal souls or mere ghosts?
“Make no haste bury the corpse before it starts stinking” I heard such phrase in a funeral and never quite yet forget it
With the speed a body starts to rotten after its death explains very diligently how disgusting a human being is
I never yet quite understand the meaning of a tombstone, what is the point of clinging to names when one is no more?
Woe to all Tombstones lost in history of the world
The job of grave diggers is no different than an executioner who awaits for that final hour yet to come in such haste that he loses all his patience in saying “Come what may”
In my teenage I used to stand near a graveyard and just stare at it for some minutes to come saying “This is where I must not end”
Zoroastrians used to throw away their dead corpses in wilderness for wild animals to eat with the believe of paying back to nature what they owe
Woe to the Worms that eat human flesh!
Ah! Death awaits thee pretty child. Not so far, not so close, I am always too near like seas to sailors or the winds to the trees
One never gets tired of Gothic horror nights emancipated by Edger Allen Poe
Imagine opening of the eye!
Imagine someone closing one’s eyes
Run! Run! Life too short and death too long
Man Naked! All bones and flesh
In grave of a rich man and the poor man one finds no material possession what justice, equality and serenity death promises
I am lost in wilderness! No Light but only darkness