The ballad of life and death

A word of caution I always use grammarly because punctuation is not my strong suit

The curtain parts on silent space, where timeless oceans churn, and two great shadows, hand-in-hand, learn their solemn lessons. One appears adorned in emerald bright, with breath of wind and fire; the other wears a cloak of night and promises deep desire.

This one was Life, a wild unrest, a fever in the blood, a vibrant song upon the crest of time, misunderstood. She painted fields in blinding gold and spoke in crashing sounds. Her story was too vast to hold on any earthly ground. She ran through hearts with a rapid beat, a dancer on the air, and scattered seeds beneath her feet with both recklessness and care.

Then came Death, serene and still, a keeper of peace. His gaze could freeze the fiercest will and grant all toil release. He moved where every pathway bent and waited at the shore—the final, patient monument that asks for nothing more. He did not hate the things Life made; he only watched them burn and knew that dust from all shades would one day return.

Said Life: "Why chase my brightest things and steal the hue of grace? Why clip the robin's wing and silence every face? I bring beauty, fast and free—the pulse, the heat, the art—while all you give back is winter to the heart."

Said Death: "My purpose is the pause, the shadow cast below. Without the ending of my laws, how could the future grow? The space I claim, the quiet tomb, the vacant, fertile dark, is where you find strength to bloom and your second spark. For nothing loves the sun so well that has not known the frost, and every life you push must balance what is lost."

And so the ballad plays its tune, from midnight to the noon, one spinning fast beneath the moon, the other guarding its cocoon. They are not rivals, dark and light, but partners in the whole. One sets the stage with morning bright, one calls the weary soul. You cannot have just one alone, for both are in your breath—the sacred silence of the stone, the vibrant rush of Death.