Life defies logic more than death does.
Death is the all perfect being of in between,
Without end without beginning.
It is like a black box,
There is no end to this darkened trap,
You could travel forever and not come to an end.
Or in some cases, death is more like a field with butterflies,
And a cool stream running through a dense thicket.
Maybe the sun shines brightly in a holler by the woods. Either way it is beautiful,
Through darkness or light it is holy and spiritual
For God is the holder of our lives in other words our souls.
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