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Drink now of the deceased!

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some say that death mars life
but life surely reciprocates this enmity.
as we wink into existence
we fault death for pain and misery,
blinding ourselves to the truth.

surely such large concepts are common
to matter and antimatter alike!
temporality does not observe the states of being
that we establish to bestow meaning to our days.
time passes: we live; we die.

we fabricate checkpoints to interrupt
the stretch of personal existence --
birth to maturity to matrimony to birth --
and with it another stretch of years
segmented into arbitrary units of time.

(astronauts' observations confirm
the calendar's dependence on orbits,
but they're of little import to
those of us relegated to lives
on these hunks of orbiting rock.)

but death is mankind's only landmark:
eras and dynasties divided with scarlet.
the hourglass runneth over with blood!
yesterday's carafe has been refilled
drink now of the deceased.

there is great wisdom in death.
(yet how inadequate the time afforded us
to peruse the funereal guidebooks!)
subsume their wisdom into your vessel,
enhancing its flavor with that already inside.

life is forever accompanied by death --
ignorance of this partnership marks a fool.
yet allowing death to shadow life marks an imbecile.
live well, die well
and breathe for the space between.
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