Here they are. The soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood.
If they have lived on plains it is grass rolling
Under their feet forever.

Having no souls, they have come,
Anyway, beyond their knowing.
Their instincts wholly bloom
And they rise.
The soft eyes open.

To match them, the landscape flowers,
Outdoing, desperately
Outdoing what is required:
The richest wood,
The deepest field.

For some of these, it could not be the place
It is, without blood.
These hunt, as they have done,
But with claws and teeth grown perfect,

More deadly than they can believe.
They stalk more silently,
And crouch on the limbs of trees,
And their descent
Upon the bright backs of their prey

May take years
In a sovereign floating of joy.
And those that are hunted
Know this as their life,
Their reward: to walk

Under such trees in full knowledge
Of what is in glory above them,
And to feel no fear,
But acceptance, compliance.
Fulfilling themselves without pain

At the cycle’s center,
They tremble, they walk
Under the tree,
They fall, they are torn,
They rise, they walk again.

One of my favorite authors, Arthur C. Clarke, died recently. He was an atheist. For him there was no Heaven to look forward to or Hell to be frightened away from, just a simple transition from existence to non-existance, the simple passing of one life. Nothing more, nothing less. I have no doubts that he came to his end with supreme dignity and acceptance.

I don't know what animals like dolphins and elephants and orangutans think of death. But my kittycat, BooBoo, doesn't anticipate death, she doesn't worry about it even though she's almost 15 years old and not quite as agile as she used to be. When she is in the final minutes of her life (and it brings tears to my eyes just to contemplate this), I doubt if she'll be thinking, "What's happening to me?" She will simply stop, and I'll be left with photos and perhaps an inscribed slate in the backyard.

I'm going on 49 years old, and I find that the older I get, the less afraid of death I am. The concept of Hell makes no sense to me. And the concept of Heaven, at least the way it is often described, doesn't make all that much sense either. Living in an eternal state of spiritual bliss? I suppose that might be attractive if pizza were involved. But really, it doesn't sound remotely human.

If lifeforms manifest spiritual components that survive physical death, wonderful. But if death is simply THE END, I can deal with that.

The fact that we are doomed to fail, and know it every minute, makes everything precious, even in the midst of horror and fear.

I believe the fact of death is why we have art, love, faith and everything that makes life so exquisite. And then, of course, without death we really wouldn't have room for birth, or reason or means for evolution (in an intellectual, physical or emotional sense).

I no longer wonder what will happen 'after' death, because I don't think thats the point. I do, however, think christianity is the only religion that gives one a tolerable solution.

And people aren't gone after they die. You know that, of course. I just thought of my dad just now. See? There he is. Not gone.

This is only my opinion, of course. I don't pretend to speak for anyone but myself.

One day I will look forward to death.

Not of my own choosing, and not any time soon, of course.