I have seen the corpses with regrets and relics of last wishes, They smell like the fallen dry leaves in autumn ,Their epitaphs are testaments of dissatisfaction and self contempt, Their grave is a cradle for eternal sleep. Under the tree he perches while sipping his favorite rose tea while brooding over the reckless nights and gloomy days filled with dark thoughts and transient joy.
A plethora of darkness befalls on people when death approaches them on their doors, they live their whole life in havoc and delusion, Ignoring the inevitable, and fasten all their hopes on the capricious and ruptured pennons of time
Detachment and separation is what death teaches. The insentient are no longer bound to the mortal threads and are disconnected from every relationship. They lay there unchaperoned with nothing but dust and soil on their bodies, with no bonds to withhold and no place to return.