I look forward to wrapping myself up in death as if in a goosedown quilt at the end of a long day.

I will not resent the closing of the eyes, the stiffening of the lips. I do not torment myself with images of decay, of cold and darkened solitude.

Rather I welcome death as the conclusion to what must be concluded, for what is a life if it cannot be looked back upon in its entirety?

I have never really welcomed death, but rather accepted it as the natural conclusion to its opposing force, life. As a soldier I was intimate with death and the gifts that she favored onto the careless. And so I accepted it. Fear? Do I fear death? I face death with the same trepidation that I face any unkown equation. I am not convinced of the afterlife, and so I simply accept death as unavoidable and natural, but I do not welcome her.

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