Always coming

 I feel it is there. Ever approaching. Slowly. Yet, nobody speaks about it. Always in whispers, or, on occasions when it has come and everyone is circling around a dead one like watching a prey in a cage!

It's been around three weeks since he died. A mentor to me, someone whom I could rely on. There are days when I end up not wondering about him. Then there are days. 

When I had seen him lying strapped to the bed with contraptions as his armor, his beard, mottled with grey and coffee brown, smiled at me. I tried to steady my breathing, taking in snatching of coolness in the air. But this was not the tender air of the untamed world - the untrue definition of fresh air.

His daughter's whole world turned upside down - her vocal cords went so slack that she couldn't even groan. Strange how you picture these things sometimes - seeing things from the outside. 

His life had cartwheeled to a gully with an end.  

I could see and feel something. My eyes definitely did - widening, expecting it to vanish in a blink. Something not from this realm. Something not meant for the human eye. I rubbed the stinging gash of the vision listening as the rain began to fill the gap between my reality and shock. The rain was different. Chaotic. It was like a selfish, indiscriminate creature.  Nature had pulled out the fiercest arrow from its quiver. It's as if the sky was coughing out sick gouts of sadness and gloom.  

I walk away knowing the end is nowhere in sight, yet it is always coming.