The guest

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Five.
It is the guest that only visited in fleeting moments.in small momentary bubbles of time that would ,ironically,seem to last forever like an eternal,undying candle and yet end to soon. For some ,who've acquired a leniency that is undoubtedly unobtainable ,their bubbles stretch and extend, granting final goodbyes or last words, and for others their bubbles are short,a split second ,perhaps,or a beat of a hummingbird's wings.

Four.
It is the guest who's presence causes a chill ,if that is what it could be called.A chill that runs down your spine,reawakening a hidden primal instinct that could only be described as the want, the need ,to run and to hide. To escape the inevitable. To escape our guest in a futile attempt at earning the privilege to decide our untimely demise.

Three.
It is the guest that many tried to cheat, to avoid, to prevent. But as was discovered one could sooner stop the sun rising or the waves from washing up hidden depths of the sea. It is unavoidable, yet the fear of what has yet to be experienced by oneself births an unbridled denial that contaminates the consciousness and provokes an insuppressible urge that unknown to those who've yet to reach their understanding, their limit.

Two.
It is the guest who everyone meets. The one who's compatible to us all, who fits us like a glove so much so that it surrounds us, is a part of us. The one who hides in the deepest corners of our minds, in the crevices and cracks in every fibre of the things we see and yet is never seen.

One.
It is the guest that is welcomed. The one that eventually everyone embraces with wholehearted acceptance. Without bitterness or anger at the one who has finally caught up with us. It is the recognition and acknowledgement of the end that allows us to make peace with the guest. Perhaps it is the knowledge that life continues although we may not. That the world keeps turning with or without us.

Maybe I am wrong. Completely wrong. After all what are the ramblings and thoughts of an old woman in her bubble. Maybe I am strange, instead of thinking back on life or saying goodbye I am thinking of the guest. Maybe it's because i can feel it, the sense of safety that is. A sense that only is held in the presence of those who we truly love. I never thought my guest would have a friendly face, I'd thought there would be a figure draped in black, I don't know why, but there he is, the companion who'd left me many years prior to this date, beckoning me to join him with such an endeavour to which I don't have the heart to deny. And so maybe this is it, the end, or maybe the beginning.

Zero
Death. the guest that visits us all.