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George Bastow


Death – a misrepresented act of existence trapped in a black shroud of peoples’ misunderstanding. It is engulfed by peoples’ bleak perception and skewed by their frightened views. Death brings suffering and pain, so they say, but does it really embody the shadow and darkness which mankind deeply fears? Does it truly swallow us in loss and sadness or is the agony that it brings of our own creation? Death is inescapable but yet we still hide from its grasp. Terrified we run unwilling to accept the reality of it. We mould it trying to fit its black form into a rational box of human making. We try to understand it, cope with it and acknowledge it in a way that is manageable for the unwilling mind.

In the deepest state of pain and sadness we try to mould it into a position which is controllable, but in a state of pain is the cover of darkness which encompasses us, really the arms of death? Is it actually the cold embrace of another power which makes us cry and shriek? Is it a second force that guides our emotions? Does death control pain and darkness or is it grief which scars the mind? Is grief the one who makes the soul twist and the shadows darken? Does death leave us hurt or is it another force which controls the dark attack? Death merely takes away but grief rips through the soul. Death is sly in its actions; death is a thief who strikes suddenly but grief is a complicated entity which remains to swim in its carefully formed agony.

Death is powerful, it takes life hourly on its sporadic spree, it can snatch or guide, demand or summon as grief follows in its dark wake. Is death really as dark as we perceive it to be? Is it really the cruel black thoughtless figure which mankind cannot escape from, or is grief the black shrouded man?


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