Mortality. She’s a stone, cold witch, she is. Cares not about our beauty, our charm, our wealth, our power, our goodness, our evil. She grabs us all. She is without friends; nepotism would not become her. She dares us to drive too fast, to drink too much, to sleep too little. She beckons us with disease and illness of body and soul. She ignores our holistic alternatives, our pesticide free vegetables, our grain fed chickens and cattle. She comes to them too. To her, we are all dispensable. We repopulate. We feed her. We make sure that she will never starve, never be forced to beg for sustenance. She yanks us from one existence into another–recklessly, carelessly, brutally–mourning after mourning after mourning.
