Death is lonely in company.
He is always the unwanted guest.
The party stops when he comes in.
Bubbles go flat, petals drop from the flowers,
pink leaves the cheeks under any amount of Rouge.
People don't see his good side.
They see the skull without the skin.
They see teeth and tusks and sickles.
They taste metal and smell decay.
So he dresses up to meet awful expectations.
Death needs a friend who can see beyond the masks.
I think his friend is the shaman.
- Robert Moss
Photo: Autochrome of Tibetan skeleton dancer taken by Joseph F. Rock in 1925. A Buddhist monk is performing the Durdak Garcham, “Dance of the Lords of the Cemetery”.
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