She defied the

darkness that festered in

her heart, planted her feet

and conquered

demons with an iron

will searing hot with renewed

vows to fight

the ills of life and give

unto others kindness and

compassion forever.

She died one morning

when no one expected

because the four winds didn't

care about her vows or

her struggles or what

she overcame and did

or the future she built

despite all of the struggles.

Another she

lived pious and devoted

and showed nothing less than

kindness to others and to

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herself. She vowed to

bring healing to others less

fortunate than her and

study medicine, her heart filled

with piety and devotion.

She died to an unfair illness

that she was meant to fight,

that came out of nowhere and

just

took her.

He struggled to find happiness

before, yet one day, he met

the perfect lady who complimented

him perfectly. She always watched

her health and monitored her

lifestyle to be happy and live

happy.

She died anyway.

The struggles of man mean

nothing to the four winds and

the two poles and

the solar flares and

the dying stars and

the newborn stars and

the morning sun and

the distant peaks and

the rustling rivers and

the morning dew and

the early breeze and

the open seas.

We mean nothing;

we always meant nothing;

we never meant to rise above

nothing;

to them, we are but an

obligatory passage that

happens to exist near them.