There wasn’t a time I witnessed a conversation.
The two I didn’t see talking were merely projections
That filled me with a certain realisation,
As water fills an infinitely empty cup, rejection
That I understood their meaning.
I perceived only two, yet both, collections
Of things that still are, and are now faded reflections.
There wasn’t a time when I witnessed these two,
The two I didn’t see talking, Death and Life.
And Life spoke unto Death, as river flows to ocean,
“Death? Why do people love me, but hate you?”
And Death replied, like knife edge’s collision,
“Because you are a beautiful lie
And I am a painful truth.”
by David Boucher