wonderful things, wonderful life.

It's not that I am obsessive with death, I am obsessive with life. I have become so familiar with the dead it brings so many questions about life. In my human anatomy class I am slowly dissecting the cadavers and learning and understanding, but what is impossible to understand is how? There has to be a God because only a God could have created this body for life to fill, for us to fill. How miraculous is that? I wonder a lot about the end of life, and what that must feel like. Does it feel like anything? Or do you just continue to think,  no longer in your body?

In a book I am reading a boy dies. His soul remembers a lot of things, but the last thing is him sitting under the sky with his lover as they sing Across the Universe
"Nothing's gonna change my world."
"Nothing's gonna change my world."

Later on his soul describes

"There's a shiver in our legs, a tremor like the Earth is speeding up, spinning of into uncharted orbits. Scary, isn't it? But what wonderful thing didn't start out scary? I don't know what the next page is for you, but whatever it is for me I swear, I'm not going to ruin it. I'm not going to yawn off in the middle of a sentence and hide it in a drawer. Not this time. Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical dessication. I want life in all of its stupid sick rawness.
Okay?
Okay.
Here it comes."

It leaves me breathless