Death, be the birth of life

Man’s life begins where it ends.

Before that it was just ticking of time; and he while trying to be an escapist from his own life begins to forecast his ‘virtual’ end. He was living a corpse’s life, always decayed in his mind and body. Always, he relayed his hopes on a ‘decent death’, some sort of a ‘peaceful death’ sans pain and suffering. 

In fact, death is life’s declaration of its fulfillment; a fulfillment which is an innate wish once a life sprouts in this universe.  Life has its depths on its death. Without a death to boast life is futile. Without a death to direct life cannot be introduced to the concept of ‘time’. Beauty of life lies on its mystic veils which hide death from birth.  Man’s life ends where it begins. Life has an end in birth.

Life is constrained in birth and liberated in death, say masters.