Mortality is a strange thing. I don't think of her often.
But when I do, she knocks me to my knees. Taking all the air out of my lungs. She's powerful and stoic. Who thinks of her when they are the top of the world?
Not one. But she's always there, to catch you when you're sinking into the floor. Painfully reminding you she's the only one who you speak to when the night is dark and cold.
She's tricky and sly.
Taking the old, but also the young,
a baby, hardly a week old.
a kid, barely a quarter of a century young.
How do I justify her actions? Why not me? I didn't ask for these growing pains. But again, nobody does. Nobody asks to be plucked from the Earth.
Why does she chose to ****** every beautiful being from this Earth?
Why is she so strange?
Perhaps, she must remind us that we are just mortals.
We are of this Earth, she is not.
She must remind us, because we often forget.