Helpless We Stand!

How helpless is the man in face of death, how humbling an experience this encounter is, for nature does not let you linger long on your grief, does not allow you to break away disillusioned from the temporal existence of the world. We may abandon food for a day, every morsel a banal lump enforced into our mouths, but within three days, the fog descends again, clouding our eyes so that we again forget our own inevitable demise that hogs our lifeline, cutting it short. Within three days, our baser desires resurface, gradually then growing into the hedonistic monsters that keep us so busy in the seek of the unachieveable satisfaction.
Yes, we cry. For long we cry. In vain we cry. Alone we cry. We cry commemorating the anniversaries of our grief - daily, monthly, yearly - we mark days on the calendar, the days we survived,the days our grief was not powerful enough to overcome us, the days life again won - and grief took a sideline. We count days and months of when for the others our grief became redundant tales, our tears our unwillingness to move on, our faded smiles the souvenirs of our aging, not the memoirs of our tragedy.