To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause:
-- William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Death is the great leveller. It comes to all, regardless of wealth, social position, age, occupation or what side of the political spectrum one falls. It is, for the most part, unexpected; it comes at its own time and pace.
But what happens to us, when we wish for death. Does he come when called? Does he wait until we stand on the precipice, holding our hands when we've made a decision; or does he hold our hands to hold us back until our time. For some, it's a game to stare death in the eye, conquer it at that moment, and live the day.
Death frightens me. Perhaps it's the unknown; perhaps it's the question of what have I done with my life to make a difference.
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