Death hath no breath nor sentiment of sorrow for the bereft. It is always the last occurrence left, giving no regard to time, regret or consciousness. It is finality — gradually or instantly. Death’s venom is utterly devastating when it comes unexpectedly. The living are left to the contemplation of mortality’s acquisition. In its wake of devastation death’s whispers may not give any rhyme or reason. It can come as a betrayal, the ultimate treason. It can come as sweet release; the peaceful letting go of a life lived for many seasons. Death collects its bounty even from the ultra powerful and wealthy. What lies beyond or what does not, is its neverending mystery. Perhaps before an entrance heavenly two thousand years in the bowels of purgatory. Death’s alluring dance offers a glimpse of eternity. Funeral attendants whisper among themselves, he lived his life in agony. Soil and roses are thrown by the tearful living simultaneously as the cemetery groundskeeper lowers the body.