If you die, why is it fun to live?
The sun had turned yellow—the universe had taken off its first cloak and was now dressed in golden clothes—the yellow moon was floating in the sky like a common cloud. The setting sun, with a slow pace and weary steps, was moving towards the western horizon. The dawn of day was turning into the silence of the evening. The darkness was stretching its arms from the eastern horizon in an anxious manner to sweep aside the gloomy day.
After saying goodbye to the people of the world, the dying sun suddenly drowned in the sea of darkness, and night fell on my shoulder. The dawn of day was crushed by the blackness of night. Its reflections, on which the darkness of the night had cast its dappled cloak, appeared on my veiled picture, and for a moment there rose in my heart a passion against the blackness of the night. But then, the next moment, my thoughts went on the path of reality.
It didn't take long for me to reach the truth—the secret was immediately revealed that the color of the morning is the soldier in the night, just like the life of the unworthy death.
The idea of life without death is as worthless as the idea of darkness without light, autumn without spring, joy without sorrow, and success without failure. It is because of this that the supreme scholar is busy every moment—if there were no death, who would have wished to live? In which heart do you wish, and death is not only the dark side but also its bright side.
Those who meditate have awakened to the consciousness of annihilation and the pain of life. And the truth is that all the luxuries of life invite death. Life is like a test before you only because death is associated with it.
We are small, we are like a bubble. Life is our test in this living room. Death is the only thing that saves life from the curse of monotony. If there were no death, then life would pass by the winds of sameness. Sameness is the curse that takes away the beauty of all things.
Why do those who embrace nothingness turn their faces away from it? Time seeks its own permanent abode.
The whole world is enveloped in a mantle of darkness, not a star, not a glimmer to break the monotony of the dark night sky. Peace and calmness reign supreme. No more do the birds chirp, the animals cry, or the men chatter.
Nearby, the church's tower clock strikes twelve. All the world is at rest except for the busy, ever-running stream and the hard-working clock. The hands of the faithful clock trudge away, never to return again.
Suddenly, this peace and tranquility is disturbed by the shrill clarion of the cock, and the huge cannonball of the sun peeps over the horizon, flooding the earth with a fiery golden light. Everything on the earth comes back to life to see a new and fresh day.
Yes, it is the multi-plumed cock that has given us hope of yet another day.
