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Life of death

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They were the only ones that symbolized the existence of life. They don’t belong. Faintly aloof from the dead, the living laments for those who have lost their lives. Vibrant but dull, powerful but weak; A big brown tree that has a lot of physique.
Radiant. I am the only one who sees the beauty in their colors. The mixture of Cream and Pink illuminates the dull gray skies. The brown branches darker than the dying trees by the gravestones convey that life is more powerful than death.
Complex. I am the only one who’s fascinated by its structure. The bent of the branches are the challenges of life.
I am the only one who can feel their sadness. I am the only one who can feel the cold air that they release. I am the only who can hear them weep. They cry. Cry like a mother who just lost her children. I can taste their salty tears. Millions of tears that produced the gigantic waves that hit Japan.
I am mystified. Mystified and mesmerized by a form of life in a lifeless place.
Confused how the tree of life survives fertilizing on carcasses. How did this powerful tree get stranded in a sea of death and unforgiving souls? Then I realized. As I distant myself, I came into a realization that life and death are non-existent without each other. I am saddened by my epiphany.




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