A Soul of Coal

Death happens. People are lost. Souls vanish. One second we take a breath, the next, we don't. Our memories slip from our minds, as the air slips from our lips. The hope that death conceives in our minds is a beautiful aspect of the dark mystery. The possibilities of afterworlds is such a wondrous faith. And what amazes me is how committed people are to this hope. There is no proof or evidence, yet millions of people believe that there is something bigger than this. Something magical. Yet as that final breath draws from our lungs we are pushed back from a world of optimism to one of distrust. Do we really think there is a better place? Or is this faith just a solid concept we grab onto when we don't know? When we're afraid we won't be remembered? Eventually our eyes will cloud and glaze over as we become cold and distant in the thoughts of others. But as for now, as for the living, the hope we carry is one of the most beautiful things about death. Or perhaps, its the ignorance of evidence that is beautiful. Regardless, life is given to us as a piece of coal that we forge into a diamond. Some people envision the diamond as death, an exquisite paradise. Others strive to fashion a bright future, but in the end all we have is coal.