"He has put on invisibility.
Dear Lord, I cannot see....
But this I know although the road ascends
And passes from my sight
That there will be no night;
That you will take him gently by the hand
And lead him on Along the road of life that never ends,
And he will find that it is not death but dawn.
I do not doubt that You are there as here,
And you will hold him dear.
Our life did not begin with birth,
It is not of the earth
And this that we call death, it is no more
Than the opening and closing of a door....
And in Your house how many rooms must be
Beyond this one where we rest, momently.
Dear Lord, I thank you for the faith that frees,
The love that knows it cannot lose its own;
The love that, looking through the shadows, sees
That You and he and I are ever one"
- James Dillet Freeman, poem 'The Traveler'
Than the opening and closing of a door"
What a wonderful way to express the exit door of life!
Down in the dungeons of homelessville, life is anything but held sacred. It is the ultimate struggle for many of the addicted, impoverished, lonely, mentally challenged members of our 'unwanted' and forgotten society. But because of their struggles life is something that they cherish as much as a giggle, and in a lot of cases prefer it much less. Overdoses aren't overdoses. They are suicides. They aren't accidental. They are premeditated. A simple thought of "I'll go out with a bang" as one tormented soul told me, is not a thought of death. It is relief at no life. That tormented soul is now dead. There was just nothing left for him. He couldn't control his addictions. Society couldn't control him. Nobody wins accept the 'Death Doctor'. But who cares about him really. His family gave him up for dead. Living on bus stop benches isn't really much fun. Pension days are OK 'cause he could wipe himself out of the real world' for a few days before withdrawal begins. Sounds bad doesn't it? You can understand why he wanted to go out with the big bang, huh? Oh he had tried it many, many times before but the 'kick' wasn't enough to do it's job. He used to laugh about how it was a 'ripper ride' before he came down. He played Russian Roulette with himself every fortnight and cursed every time he survived. Pretty sad really.
James Dillet Freeman in his poem above talks about death being the closing and opening of a door. I hope we can all start to get it through our heads. Every single one of us is dying. We just expire at different times. Some will go soon. Some will go later. The funny thing is that of the 7 billion of us still kicking, there's ONLY ONE DOOR at the end.............
........ THE DOOR OF THE DEADED..........