Death does not mark the end of a chapter in a man’s life, but the end of a book of man, the beautiful conclusion to his yearnings.

Death is the great equalizer of human beings. Death is the boundary that we need to measure the precious texture of our lives. All people owe a death. There is no use vexing about inevitable degeneration and death because far greater people than me succumbed to death’s endless sleep without living as many years as me.

The passage of time will ultimately obliterate the pallid signs of my toneless existence. My faint light will disappear entirely in the ebb and flow of the sprawling continuum of time, the impeccable sea of perpetuity that yawning encasement serves as the impeachable mantel for the inescapable predicament that horns the human condition.