when you are faced with your own mortality, with your own vulnerability, that each one of us is living on borrowed time, there are no words that can aptly describe how you feel.

there is fear.

and yet, there is so much more. and perhaps so much less. raw emotions vying for space on your already too crowded brain.

why is there so much emotion attached to the idea of the spirit leaving its mortal shell to sail unhindered into the great mysterious beyond?

when you draw your last breath, do you really die? does death merely end your suffering on earth?

when you die, do you cease to be alive? where do you go? and what of your thoughts and feelings, dreams and longings?

there is of course, grief. we have become too attached to our worldly possessions, too comfortable in our homes, too complacent in our dysfunctional relationships.

some say that when you die, there is no more pain: how do we know joy if there is no pain? love without indifference? triumph without failure?

faced with your own mortality, you would not know what to feel, let alone put your emotions to words