The River and the Ocean

"You seem tired."

Death, my hunter. Death, my pursuer. Death, the wisest of us all.

"Is it that you cannot flee me any longer? Or that you do not wish too?"

I remain in silence – preparation, I tell myself, for what is to come. The dead cannot speak. The dead should not speak. One of us learnt that, to his cost. And death, as another of my kin learnt, is so easy to bring. So many of us bring silence in a symphony of rage, drowning out the quieter, sweeter songs of compassion.

"So are you ready?"

I smile – would it matter if I were not? Death has come at last. After that river, all those years ago.

"Rise."

And so I do so. My body moves up, and I stand tall, even as Death looms over me. Tall enough to shadow the entire world. Wide enough to wrap us all in His embrace. With eyes the colour of the void, and face as white as the moon. The last light of our lives, before the face disappears, and the void is all that's left.

"Come."

Death marches, and the void beckons. Colour, removed from the world. Sound and touch bereft from my mind. A bitter taste on useless tongue. And-

"You linger."

And so I do, as my body turns. A body of another kind lies behind me. Long since useless. The chrysalis from which the butterfly emerges. The kind which none shall see. Short lived, is the butterfly. Long lived, is the infinity that comes after its flight.

"Will you be missed?"

I look up at Death, and he looks down. The darkness in his eyes flickers with…what, I wonder. Amusement? Contempt? Pity? What reason for it all, I ask? Death comes for us all in the end. Why should he give us light even as he snuffs it out?

"You should have died in the river."

I remain silent.

"Life itself, is the river. Bodies taken along, before ending up on its banks. Outside the river, forgotten as the water moves on. Pieces taken along before they too are dissolved in time's waters. Your brothers despoiled the river. While you remained in as long as possible."

That I know.

"So now you must come," Death intones. "The banks burst. The river must flow. It shall not be dammed."

I nod. I begin to walk, as the river flows behind me. Cold and dark, are the banks. Beyond them I see nothing. No forest, no field, no sign of land. The banks separate the river from the ocean. Dark and deep, bereft of life. A darkness and a deepness that none in the river could comprehend. I-

I stumble. The bank offers no comfort. Yet it is all I can feel. All I can touch, before entering that entropy. I claw, and moan, and fight, as infinity seeks to tear me from the womb of the world. I reach for life's breast. Even as Death takes my hand.

"You are weary," he says.

I look up once more. Void. Darkness. The light long gone. Why wear the skull, when it is my own face that wears it?

"It was a long journey," I whisper. Already I feel the salt of the ocean enter my lungs. Already I am parched, yearning for the waters of life. "I was the longest journey I've ever been on."

Death pulls me up gently. Death keeps my hand in his. Death pauses, as the ocean beckons. As a breeze blows, carrying its salt. And-

"There are longer journeys beyond the river."

And I hear the song of birds. Of islands in that ocean. Salt itself becomes sweet. The ocean a lake. An ocean less dark. I hear and taste and see it all. And I feel Death's hand in mine.

"Come," says Death. "You are tired from your travels. And this bridge, old friend…we shall cross together."

A bridge, I ask? Or a wharf?

And yet I walk forward.

The ocean beckons.