My father wanted me to read this at his funeral. Today I will do that.


The horizon, constant and static,
is a neat bit of trickery.
Impossible to reach,
its very existence is an act of faith.
Pure fiction.

In life there is the unobtainable,
a thing we can never have
and there is the inevitable,
a thing we must have.

The horizon is unobtainable,
forever out of reach
no matter how far we advance.
It is, in fact, just one long lie.

Death, on the other hand, never lies.
It delivers its promise. Inevitable.
Like the horizon, our death lolls there, still
at a distance impossible. Unthinkable.

But one day, in a stifled heartbeat,
that Death-horizon will fly at us with frightening speed.
There we will stand and
from there, see no further.


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