She stares. She dares, to come closer.
She gets bolder, she inches closer, as you get older, by the day. To your dismay.
She lurks around the bend. As you spend, yourself, in moments, in memories, in the pleasant reveries.
She lurks, and she snails your way, she hides, she likes to play.
And then she appears, out of nowhere. When you’re on your way to somewhere. A behemoth truck teeters astray. A stray dog comes in your way.
You never know, she is a sudden blow. Smacks you when you are high, racks you when you’re low.
The pain it causes, the dread it breeds, there’s a finality in it. Like it’s the only reality, innit?
It ensnares some of us early, very early. And gorges on some so dearly.
To some of us it comes late. The vicissitudes of fate.
And we wait, alone, stooped in our mansions, slouched on a chair. Still cursing, “Life’s so unfair!”
It’s all just a game for her, a silent play. And we are but puppets, ‘pray and obey’.
Life, in all its entirety seems a delusion. Collusion of the creator, right from the beginning. Right from the very first breath.
The only permanence is the blackness, of the truth, which was always death.