On death

Our own existence likely meets even the strictest definition of certainty to ourselves. Only matched or followed by death, or at the very least some transcendence of the current life away from this one.

To ignore death (or whatever transcendent equivalent to you) and live in willfull ignorance is a strategy, sure - but one I am not fond permanently of or privy to. It finds me with as unmistakable consistency as life, it seems.

So in moments of muses with death where ignorance has temporarily departed: Is death to fear?; to embrace?; to mock?

I don’t know.