To be dead

To be dead is the hardest,
the saddest of all states.
To be dead
is to be without love,
without attachments,
habits, tastes, desires, angers,
without thoughts,
without feelings.
To be dead,
is to have no one to hold you,
no one to push you away.
To be dead,
is to be drenched in mud
hurling yourself into grief.
To be dead,
unable and unwilling to bind back your fear,
A bare volcanic island quarreling with the sea.
The intersection of the known and unknown,
of being and nonbeing;
something begins only where nothing ends.
To be dead is the hardest.

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