Tonight the clock ticks at twelve.
The hands of time are slowly proving its purpose.
I can smell the aroma of death, sweeping and sipping through my nostrils. It moves like a gentle morning breeze, so smooth, I feel like I'm in a dawn of a new beginning. Then, gradually, my soul discerns the vile stink of Death and tries to intervene with all Its power to mitigate Its hold against his hold. The tension becomes surreal, and my spirit begins to make second thoughts to whether or not he should partake of the ordeal between death and life.
Instead, he makes a wager with Death to let my soul live and let my body succumb to all the terror It can bring. To my surprise, Death approves of the deal and consumes every part of my body, leaving no speck of its existence.
As soon as I felt my soul ascending towards the white Light, I could hear the alarm clock ringing like an antiphonal song of reprise:
"Where is thy sting, oh, Death? He ascends with no pain!
From the ashes he'll rise, and with joy he'll reign!"

Mark Limpin (June 12, 2008)