I.   The Wolf and The Lamb  /  Aesop's Fable  II.   The Civil War  /  Anne Sexton  III.  Oiseau Mort  /  Charles Pinet  IV.  *Unknown

Made by Katuskist.

In the realm between birth and the grave, where does the line truly lie? Is it a narrow boundary, easily discernible? Or does it blur into obscurity, defying definition? Perhaps it is not a barrier at all, but a tether, stretching from one end of existence to the other.

Birth, then, becomes the prologue to our shared tale of mortality. We celebrate the engagement of life and mourn its inevitable conclusion, for what is existence if not a relentless cycle of defiance against death?

But, do not mourn for me.

Instead, let there be delight. Let there be celebration.

For my end shall always be my genesis.

From this moment until eternity.

Scorpion (1802–1973), Naya Bane

‎