Summary: In its structure the manner of death is all. She is actually in the act and need assistants, servers, janitors, porters to arrange passports final journey. It’s just a story …
For some time I have been dreaming about cemeteries. Nae these dreams that cause horror or depression, but a dream light, where in fact the cemetery is a quiet place. In fact the first works of art that was met at the cemetery. Statues of angels, architectures worked in marble and poetic phrases about longing and love.
In my dreams, walk the streets watching the serene past life transcribed into plaques and photos. I see sad people, who could not understand the meaning of life, the cycle of all, it has a beginning, middle and end.
I see churches, temples, religious of all religions, which for a moment share the same emotion. Some apologize for their mistakes and their ouutros intercede for the departed. It’s a powerful scene, but that makes us grow. After all we live with so many trappings do not remember that we left so suddenly, without planning.
In my dreams, there are high walls that separate the real from the imaginary. And angels who walk as if they were real and living among the dead. Death, that yes, hides his face is covered with cloth of historical papers and is always in their austere decições. I noticed that death need auxiliary soldiers, porters, coviros, judges, lawyers and elevator. Each in its mission.
In the same cemetery, which was very large, had natural and artificial flowers, which to me represented the lives of some people. On the one hand luxury of deposits and other cold shallow graves, almost to show that the bones are not people … that there was just the shell.
In my dreams, children talked and played with his past before, with the righteous departed happy, because death is a natural evolution. Unfortunately, it also had the demagogues, who called themselves friends of those who did not care for life. These provoked the wrath of the angels.
Good and evil was represented in symbolic form, for death spoke with both. The door was the same for anyone to know the ultimate mystery of the passage. I have watched. The portal was an elevator that went up hours, hours decia ….
I climbed on walls and looked inside and outside the cemetery. I heard bells and picked flowers. then came the rain that tasted of sincere tears … I understood that we fail to leave death to the last moment, because it is eternal.
