Meditation on our past reveals who we truly are. It reminds us of where we came from and where we were before here. Death is a retrospective by the scope of finitude.
Only Death must knock twice, once for your breath and once for your mind. In the infiniteness of death, we find the comfort of a lover for only Death could love us when we flee ourselves. Our steps only trace to and from the godly state in which we find the nurturing scythe.
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