XV

One midnight, in the depth of dream’s domain, you find yourself on a moonlit plain of gray. All around, quiet tombstones mark terrain.

In your chest, there’s no fear but calm sway as you walk among shadows with steady heart, aware this is a vision guiding your way.

Up ahead, a figure from the dark does depart- a tall silhouette draped in cloak of night. Eyes glint star-bright under hood set apart.

“You who die daily,” echoes a voice slight, ancient and tender, not grim as you assumed. It is Death personified, grand and polite.

“I have watched your practice,” says he, perfumed with scent of myrrh and the dust of old years. “Few mortals befriend me before they are entombed.”

You step closer, meeting the gaze without fear. Death’s face is paradox: skull and kindly smile. He gestures to a granite bench now near.

“Sit with me a while, child of the trial of daily demise,” he gently intones. “Ask what you will of the Lord of the Final.”

You feel truth emanate in marrow and bones; this is a chance to glean wisdom arcane. So beneath barren trees and glistening stones,

you ask: “O Death, am I living in vain to die each day? What lies at the end of this continual loss? What do I gain?”

Death chuckles softly, as if to a friend. “You gain life itself, in its purest form. By dying daily, on Life you depend

more fully. You break of habit the norm and taste immortality in mortal breath. You see that renewal is how life is born.”

He touches the earth, and from barren heath a white lily blooms where his finger rests. “See how from decay this flower unsheathes?

The secret: there is no antagonism at test between life and me,” Death continues low. “We are two sides of one door, east and west.”

“You understand this in part, for you go willingly into my arms each nightfall. Thus you learn what most never know.”

A silence, then you voice a fear small: “Will this truly prepare me for your embrace when my final dusk comes, when you call?”

Death nods slowly, kindness on his face. “Yes. By the time I come as end to your days, you shall know me well and walk with grace.

To one who dies daily, death is a phase of life, not an apocalypse of despair. You will greet me as old friend at the haze.”

Relief and awe fill you as you share this moment with the great Leveler, Death. No scythe to dread, just wisdom to declare.

“Go on,” he says, “continue each breath in mindful dying and living bright. Thus you conquer me long before your last breath.”

The vision fades as he melds with the night. You wake before dawn, pillow damp with tears not of sorrow, but gratitude and light.