The Hymn of Death

"Lacrimosa dies illa
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem. Amen."

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I was listening to Mozart’s swan song—religiously—and I couldn’t help but think about how we all have this tendency to lean into sadness and sorrow.

It’s as if we willingly shove ourselves into a lake of grief, not even attempting to swim—though we might know how. Instead, we consume sadness, thriving on it like a useless tree growing in a dirty swamp.

And yet, through this strange, disgusting process of famine growth, we manage to glaze it with aesthetics. We dress our sorrows up so we can look at them without the intrusion of“common sense” or the “get over yourself” talk. We indulge in sadness, something so out of place—yes, sadness is out of place.

I know life isn't perfect, and that true happiness lies in the afterlife, but still, we should learn how to handle our feelings without glamorizing sorrow.

YET—

I love how humans turn everything into art and aesthetics, something that moves us inside and out. I love how we turn death into music. Instead of falling apart, we create symphonies—like Mozart, who was sick and on the verge of death, yet worked on his own self-elegy. It’s poetic, viewed through an artistic lens.

I love how we transform breakups into hauntingly beautiful songs—like Lana Del Rey, who captures heartbreak so vividly in Summertime Sadness and Cruel World. (edited: ew a zionist.. need to change the example)

We are simply complicated creatures, forever chasing what is aesthetically pleasing. For that, I will always mourn and laugh in glee.

THE WAY WE CELEBRATE DEATH

will always amaze me—and creep me out.

I mourn someone so dear to me, and on every anniversary, I shut down, withdrawn, as a cloud of blue covers my skies.

The way people dress in black and declare it the color of death.

Stormy nights in movies, always a harbinger of death.

Crows, owls, and crying children.

Death wishes.

In some cultures, widows are burned with their husbands. In ancient Egypt, they prepared for death lavishly, covering the dead in gold and jewels. The Greeks wrote of Persephone and Hades. Some Shia Muslims dress in black and mourn with self-inflicted pain for a whole month to honor their beloved Imam.

So Why? Why do we fear yet celebrate death at the same time? Is it a some-kind of trick we pull so death doesn't look our way?

Death is a mystery. 

Let us keep it that way!

xxooxxnuvxooxx