Because I could not stop for Death.

Because I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves

And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

And I had put away

My labour, and my leisure too,

For his civility.

We paused before a house that seemed

A swelling on the ground;

The roof was scarcely visible,

The cornice but a mound.

Since then ‘tis centuries; but each

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses’ heads

Were towards eternity.

                           Emily Dickenson,1890

Death is kind and courteous. I was so busy in life that I could not even stop for Death. So Death kindly decided to stop for me and offered me a ride in his carriage. I accepted the ride. I found Immortality as the only one else on that carriage.

Death is never in haste especially in comparison to the rush in which I was my whole life. Death is not frightening. It is a gentle guide. It drives slowly and has its own pace.

Death took me in his carriage and showed me the school in which I played. It showed me all the fields I sowed and reaped and then the setting sun.

At last our carriage stopped in front of my grave. It was cold and damp inside. It was just a muddy ground with no roof. No gold no silver, it was just a mound of mud.

After this journey with Immortality on the carriage of Death, a century’s time feels shorter than a day. Now I realize the horses’ head in the carriage of Death were always towards Eternity.

Kartikey