Wendy Joy Crane | Architect
The blackness that will take us all. She envelops us in her black wings and flys away.
The romantic part of me wants to believe in a life after death, that once we take our last breath, that our souls will persist, that we will be re-incarnated, that all of our experiences, moments, and memories will live on somehow.
In truth, what I believe happens after death is not so romantic.
I believe that when death takes us, when our heart finally stop beating, we will become nothing more than dirt. T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶h̶a̶p̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶d̶e̶c̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶r̶n̶.̶
Perhaps this is not so different from re-incarnation. The thought that as we decay, we become a source of food and nutrients for another life form, and so the cycle of re-use of resources continues.
Our matter is re-incarnated, but what of our souls?
Maybe the scariest thing is asking "what happens when we die?" And realising the answer (with a resounding hollow echo) is simply...
"I DO NOT KNOW".