Today I saw a guy who was attacked and nearly killed last night. I saw the ugly marks across his back where he was beaten, and around his throat where someone tried to smother out his life. I saw the pain in his face while he tried to brush it off and convince himself he'd be okay. I hardly know him, but his brush with death impacted me so much.
I wonder how many people would think of me more than twice if I died. Death seems so far away, so distant, so un-ordinary, so unreal at times. Almost like a myth, or a legend you're brought up to believe in, even though you're not sure it actually happened. I wonder how different dying is than living. We don't remember what it was like to be born - do we remember afterwards what it was like to die? We don't like thinking about death, because we like to live too much. But how much life means to us doesn't really sink in until we know how real death is. It could happen any second. It's absolutely the most unpredictable thing.
He could have died. But he didn't. He's breathing oxygen on the twenty third of July. Today he felt the intense heat of the sun on his head. People talked to him today, because he is alive.
I am alive. God gave me breath today. His face shone on me today. He has a purpose for me, therefore I live.

Death so conclusive
So final, so rigid.
Life so elusive
So precious, so vivid.
Each unpredictable,
Fleeting, and rare.