Summary: This musing is about Death. Some time a long time ago, somehow I decided Death wore purple. Not sure of the context or I just like how “purple death” sounds, but I re-wrote it to specify that purple was the outfit of Death. Word Count: 288
At the edge of my vision standing calm -soft in radiance – was the Deity of Death. Naturally, Royal in name and holy in power Death wears the color purple.
Death’s purple cloak was balanced by the tide of light bursting out from the sea of darkness where they appeared. I now felt a blooming epiphany and I witnessed scents that floated into my mind and felt sights never before understood until now. I was touched by happiness and I was warmed by the sorrows of sacrifice. I smelled of love and tasted of hate. The presence of Death was remarkable as my birth.
Death said onto to me – it was not yet time to wake up and they put their hand over my eyes. I had more time to be – to live – to see the unseeable and feel the unfeelable. I would have more moments to understand how wonderful life is and to remark how much I should no longer waste it as I had before. I would wake back into Earthly sleep.
For one day, when I finally take the hand of Purple Death, the sun will finally set below my twilight eyes and take with me all the sights, sounds, laughter, and cries of my life.
Is Death an ugly truth or is living a beautiful dream?
Beyond that dream of the dreams born from the beauty and imagination of existence is where true magic and wonder thrives – that is Death.
Bewitching. Vexing. Tempting.
Peaceful. Serenity. Balance.
Terror. Fear. Fright.
The Purple wrapped Death is waiting for all to finally venture back home, falling from this never ending fantasy once they wake from life into death.
Off Beat Off Kilter 