A New Grave
Beneath the newly risen mound of yellow earth lies a person,
No matter what kind of person,
They were born out of nothingness,
And return to nothingness.
What a beautiful process it is,
Light and ethereal, like mist, like wind, like air,
Drifting around the earth for a while before disappearing without a trace.
From now on, there will be no more anxiety,
No more sorrow, anger, pain, or distress,
No more burdens, no more troubles.
He came from the soil, and returns to the soil.
Henceforth, the vast expanse of the sky serves as his roof,
The thick layer of fresh soil acts as his blanket,
The stars in the heavens become his eyes,
The gentle breeze becomes his song.
From now on, birds sing for him,
Rain plays music for him,
Clouds dance for him,
Thunder claps for him.
By day, he watches the sun rise and set,
At night, he listens to the clear wind and bright moon.
With a contented smile, he rests peacefully in the netherworld,
Far removed from the heavy life he once lived amidst the noisy human world.
In many people's eyes, death equals destruction, equals bad luck. But is it truly so? For one who has been chronically ill with no hope of cure, tormented by pain day after day, what does death mean? It means release, it means rest, it means an end to suffering. For someone crushed under pressure to the point of mental instability, what does death mean? It means letting go, it means relief. For one in extreme inner anguish, contemplating suicide, what does death mean? It means liberation, it means peace. Who says death is not good?