The death is as those rulers that transform the power in graves for in them to bury the uncomfortable corpses that just said in life what felt, the truth. The dictator exercises because with extraordinary efficiency the dictatorship of the death.
Our dear beings continually shaky space, in the ballad of the eternal destiny. And we thereabout walked, always in the attempt of the escape of the inevitable encounter. And them there on the other side they always waive it us, they invite her us to the great party of the commemoration of the immortal encounter. And we refused, and we verified him how the years are so brief. And we began the preparation of the luggage, and the train already gets ready. He arrived our hour, and resigned we left, and on the other side the voices are heard stronger, closer, and father and mother happily as in a blessing of gratitude: They were "long a lot, but here we are very patient, we knew that they would come, that they would not miss the last encounter of the life. Good, finally and this time forever the family is gathered. In the death all together ones will stay. Welcome to the eternal paradise, where who enters in him, never of him he leaves."
