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Wishes Of a Dying Soul?

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. "                  -by Sylvia Plath
What would you do if you suddenly realize that your life, as you have known it, is about to be over? That your memories will slowly perish. This existence will fade into darkness. And your disappearance might leave a momentary void in hearts of those who have known and loved you only to be eventually filled with new appearances? And your absence will be forgotten and all that is left of you will be memories that will plague them who would care to ponder upon your existence?  Would then the rights and wrongs of this world matter to you? Will you be bothered to look for greater good when you can never be there to realize the outcomes of such deeds? What does a dying soul yearn more: welfare or destruction? Does he pray for blooming or perdition? Are we inherently generous or jealous?
Why are humans so scared of death when we all have to die? And if there is a choice what shall we pick given the alternatives are a year's life or instant death? Would living with a constant reminder on an approaching death a derogatory experience? Is it too much peril? Don't we always live like that: with the knowledge of an impending demise. A quietus, a fall is evident to all. Whether the awareness that death is too far away, in some ways, soothing to our existence by aiding in abscission of act of living from act of dying? What will be the effect of an added urgency in the way of living? Will the consciousness on an expedited death make people cherish every moment or will it dispel them in an abbey of hopelessness. When posed with a choice between experiencing all at once or having no experience at all what would you prefer? Are we genetically coded to work or to rest?
"Learn like you will live forever, Act like you will die tonight" is a cliché present for motivational speeches. So, how would we truly act if we knew we are to die tonight or more importantly, would we even care to act?  Here I do not wish to lay any claims of understanding human emotions or predicting any patterns that would emerge after the knowledge of an imminent death. I would rather seek diversity in behaviour under such circumstances or succumb to believing the tales of motivators for I would keep faith in goodness of men than their evils? Yet, whatever I chose to convince myself, there will be a truth though yet to be revealed?


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Biting winds pierce by Ripping my soul into shreds Cold night that muffles me Whispers only of winter ahead.
I dare not hope for a fireplace Nor heat of a rug do I aim I seek that flickering candle-light To help me have some warmth in dream
Battered body, tattered soul Demand only one reply With goals lost and dreams crushed Why, o man, you still not die?

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