Shanzophrenia.

And his wings kept burning… And they asked aren’t you afraid?

He replied: 'This is the beauty of death. Leave me, all of you. For my soul is drunk with love. Let me sleep, for my spirit is satiated with days and nights. Light candles and incense around my bed, scatter rose and narcissus petals on my body, anoint my hair with pressed musk, sprinkle perfume on my feet, then look, and read what the hand of death has inscribed upon my brow.

Leave me to drown in the arms of slumber, for my eyelids have wearied of this wakefulness.
Strum upon lutes and let the ringing of their silver strings pulsate in my ears.'

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It's wonderful what my teacher has wrote, it's even wonderful these words become my speech, it's even wonderful that I remember them, it's even wonderful that I have an answer to my death.

[Adapted from the column 'The beauty of death' - Kahlil Gibran.]