Wise Man's Tale It is hard to create #life. Everybody knows that, even though, that some doesn't know how it is made. I, for one, do know how it's created. Heck, I even tried creating a #life once, but the child was born dead. That's what made me realise, that #life can be taken away, even easier than it can be created. Nowadays, people only need a few guns and some hours to kill, say, seven-teen persons, but it can take many months to create #life. #life can also only be created a limited number of times, while you can kill an unlimited number of times. Well, at least until there's nothing left to kill. Oh, and don't misunder-stand me, when I say that the child was born dead. Many, will probably think that I were the one giving birth, but that's not how it went. In fact, the person that gave birth, died together with her child. I was the only one left back, from that little family, that never happened. What I'm really trying to say is probably, that #life is a fragile thing, which can easily be crushed under the heavy weight of death. It takes more time for some #life, to get crushed, than other, but does that really matter? What matters is, that we matter, and that we should value not only our #life, but also other. It's saddening to see, that there is many people who doesn't realise it, and because of that wind up doing some bad things. Terrorism, for example. There's no real meaning to it all, though, if nobody chooses to see it. That's how it always has worked, and that's how it's going to continue working. Many will realise this eventually, and many already have, but there will always be somebody that doesn't. Some people might even lose hope, and, at the end of the day, become a completely different per-son. It's actually quite ironic, how I'm the one saying this. After all, I lost all hope myself, at one point. But I regained it, when I realised, that there is no reason to lose hope and happiness, when you can choose to live with it. And I know, that there are a lot of people in the world right now, which are crying over a loss of some-body. Somebody, that they will never get to see in the flesh again. But I'll ask of those people, to try to be a little happy anyways. After all, I don't think that the person you're crying over, would be happy if they knew that you were unhappy. So please world, hear my plea! I wish for a better today, as well as a better tomorrow, and that will only come, if we all try to make it so. It will take time, but it can happen eventually, if everybody cooperates. So, now that I've spoken my mind, I would like you all to think about speaking yours. If you don't, you might never get your version of a better tomor-row. So goodbye everybody. And good luck.

Funeral I stare down into the all-consuming darkness of the coffin. It doesn't consume everything though, but all of my world revolved around him, which it is consuming. "But #life goes on", whispers a females voice in the back of my head. At first, I don't recognise it, but then I realise that it's my voice. I take a look at him, and my fragile and broken heart, begins to realise what has happened. It starts to realise, that this is not just a dream that I'll wake up from at any given moment, whereafter I'll be able to seek the comfort of the man lying next to me. It starts to realise, that the man who should be next to me, is now going to lie under the unforgiving ground. A memory dawns upon me. A special one, at least it's special right now, at this given moment. In the memory, I see the man, who is now lying in front of me, sitting on a chair, looking out the window. It's December, and snow had covered the earth in a bright veil, of beautiful, white crystals. He turns his head and speaks to me. He asks me, if I will cry for him when he dies. I, very confused, take a look into his eyes. They are full of sadness, with some kind of a twist. Hope, maybe? I tell him, that I'll cry for him, and the sadness in his eyes disappears. Now, when I'm supposed to cry, I can't let out the tears. That's just not how I work, I guess. I'm unable to keep my promises. I feel my left hand tightening around the bouquet of roses I brought for him. He always loved that flower. I don't know why though. But that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters anymore, really. Except for the house. He always wanted that house, he said. Ever since he first laid his beautiful gaze upon it. We just bought it, too. I lay the flowers, where I feel like they look the best. And then I walk away, take my seat, and now, finally, I can let the tears out. It's like I'm crying out all the pain, that I now have to face. With him, it would be easy, but now... I don't know anymore. Help me, Robert. I can't get through this without you. Help.

A Better Place "It's raining today," I say out loud. It isn't meant for anyone to hear, but I say it anyways. Like a reminder, for something long lost. It was also raining on the day I met her. And on the day I lost her. I sigh, just like I've done every day, since her body were consumed by the cold, hard soil of the church. The sigh is filled with misery, just like the tears I didn't let out, all those years ago. I had to keep them in, though. If my son had seen me cry, he would've lost all hope. And so, I held it in. I've never cried since. I think back now, back to the time I last visited her. Even then, I couldn't cry. It's been forty-three years now - since she left for a better place, that is. It's kinda ironic, though. She always said, that I should stop smoking, or I would die. I light another one, and breathe in the smoke. I always liked that feeling. I close my eyes, and think back. For a second, I can see her face clearly. I've never loved anything as much, as I loved that smile of hers. She smiled when she died, too. Ironic, that she had to use the smile I loved so much, while she was doing the only thing I didn't love about her. Sometimes, if I close my eyes, it feels like nothing has changed at all. But I know, that when I open them again, it's all going to vanish. I think back, and I feel like I should visit her once more. It's probably going to be the last time, too. She were right, too. About smoking killing me. The hospital is taking me in tomorrow. They didn't have the space until then. I don't understand why there taking me in, though. If I'm going to die, I'd rather die at home, than in a room with an almost sterile smell. I put out the cigarette, grab my yellow umbrella, and walk out the door. I slam the door on the way out. I'm standing in front of the stone now. A beautiful reminder of the woman I once loved. No, a reminder of the woman I still love. The most beautiful thing about it, is the small angel of stone, which stand on top of it. It's weeping. Crying, for a reason that I can't see. Shouldn't it be happy, about getting someone so perfect into heaven? I feel empty now. I've felt empty for a long time, but never have I felt this empty. I start thinking. What if there is no after#life? Have I then been looking forward to seeing someone again, even though that was but a dream? And what if there is? But I end in hell, and she's been waiting in heaven? What then? Once again, I sigh. But this time, it takes something with it, out of my body. I say my goodbyes to the stone, and leave this place. I hope she can wait a little longer. "Just be patient," I say, as I start leaving the grave, "I'm coming soon, Mirabelle". The rain washes off the tears from my face.