The face of Death

She knocks, (she disguises), she freezes.
She comes, (she sees), she conquers.
She stops, (she dominates), she leaves.


She comes, yes; and she conquers, yes. But does she see, disquise or dominate, I have no absolute clue. Does she have time enough to disguise, see or dominate?

From the knock to the vanishment, it could be a second to I don't know how long, it could be a tinge of pain to I don't know how much. It could mean eternity or it could mean suffering. It could be a blessing or a curse (I personally assume the worst curse God put on man was to grant him a life).

I wonder what it feels like to be walking away with someone from whom initially we are scared to "death". I wonder why we are so afraid to walk away with her when we know for sure that the life after now would certainly be less hellish than this one. I wonder why we moan for people who leave us? Is it for them that we moan or for us? Is it so necessary to moan if you heard about a death even when the person as a live person wasn't much to you?

Human nature and it's intricacies amaze me to the extent that I sometimes think is it normal to think; is it normal to be out of the norms. Is it inhumane to think far above and beyond?

I know it's something not anyone/everyone would want to read. I am sorry for putting it up here, but I am desperately intrigued thinking that I am inhumane and perhaps, to an extent, unfeeling.