It's Easter coming when Jesus died and was reborn. There's death and rebirth in everything.
The clock strikes dead and life begins. Calls the pointer to the afterlife but in that space holds birth.
Death is transformation. Life is metamorphosis.
It's the same to die as to live. By whose hand decides the living and the dead?
Your life or mine, we end up as bones. Scatter the world over with hard stones.
But I won't take my life. Would you take mine?
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