Death

Death be not proud, for your hold over me is not withstanding, and your grip is weak. You’ll not have my soul, though my body is already yours. I shall keep with me all that makes me absolute. Sickness and death shall recede from me and all that will be left is the greatness that once lived. Death is not the final destination, but the beginning of a new road less traveled by others. My journey is not at an end, only at an impasse. I will continue onto the next journey that awaits me. And as for Death, it shall to me be but an inconvenience, and nothing more. For Death will not be feared by me. Death is nothing but a notion amplified by the insane. An illusion told to bad children to make them behave.