At least in life, we have killed and we have been killed, not once, not twice but many times. And some of us go on living the dead souls we are, wandering what it all means to live. As it turns out, to live is to die, to die countless ways before facing the final death. The deaths in between, the deaths that we live through are worse than the death we face at the end.
The death at the end, the death which exit us from the stage of the world gives us rest, unburden our shoulders the weight of the world we never had a chance to shackle ourselves from. The deaths we face in between, the deaths which kill us alive intensifies the burden we already carry, load our baskets and leave us staggering through life.
It seems the price of life is paid with the miseries befalling us; one after another; paced like the breaths, in and out and unceasing. There's no breakthrough in life only an illusion of it and though we believe one time we'll be free like the falcons of the skies, it doesn't happen. And we all pretend we are ok, putting on the mask that scream of happiness, lie of tranquility and control in life. We are masters at the art of insinuation; chasing the illusion that we have it all, that we've held the bull by its sharp goring horns.
The gospel of life is that of what life is; of contending with the unseen ghosts going after our souls. And though we are always hopeful, the only breakthrough comes with the final death.
The deaths in between aren't deaths from cancer, or fast moving bullets, or suicides, or food poisoning. They are deaths from words we carelessly say, from assumptions we ceaselessly make, situations we mistakenly judge and things we never intentionally do though we were obligated to do. Most deaths we die are deaths we couldn't die from, are deaths we can't seriously die from, but we die, and we badly die from them.
We always bring miseries upon ourselves and others; far from the miseries fate bring upon us. We always kill ourselves. We always kill others. And we never recover. And they never recover. And they wander throughout life searching for an escape and more deaths come, and more deaths come again, till their final death reckon.
Kabwere Musa
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