Life And Death – By Emmanuel Takyie-Appiah

I tried to give a definition for life but realized my definition could only make sense if it had the word death in it. I have heard people call birth sunrise and death sunset, in truth we die every night and are resurrected every morning. I have watched deep sleep and I saw no different one’s complete loss of life as I have witnessed in one laid in state for burial.

I have seen a man throw a party to celebrate another year added to his years and I ask myself if his years were a stack of playing cards placed before him and he lost one at every birthday celebration will he not have rather mourned his own self in advance rather celebrate a year closer to death? Has it ever occurred to you that there are 365 days in a year for which one is your birthday and for this reason one day again in a particular month in some year to come will be your death day?

To be alive is like to be a pollinated fruit tree, flowering and eager to bear that one sweet wonderful fruit that is beyond measure attractive and for what reason; for man to pluck and eat and cast its seed away. Man is nothing but a fruit born of earth’s dust, nurtured, groomed and built to become beautiful or handsome, knowledgeable and intelligent, only for death to walk past all of life’s labor in life’s own farm and pluck mother earth’s fruit called the life of a man.

For what is it that a man’s heart shall stop beating than it be said that his heart is resting from its labor of forcing blood through his veins. It is only in the mystery of darkness that the truth of light is revealed. I have experienced life and have tasted death in its minute form and they both have attributes of light and darkness. In the very center of silence lies the silent desire for beautiful music to replace silence. The fear of death is rife in every man’s heart and the desire to see tomorrow is also rife in every man’s heart and for what reason then?

A man’s life is in truth like sand through an hour glass, more sand at the top at the beginning of the hour, slowly reducing till there is more sand in the bottom end of the hour glass and then all the sand comes to be at the bottom end. Life is not a fountain but rather a reservoir that is drawn from everyday, the beauty of this reservoir is that it is not refillable and does not warn any that it is low but just runs out.

I have a definition for life now; Life is but a countdown onto Death.

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