All things will Die / Alle Dinge werden Sterben / Todas as coisas Morrerão / Todas las cosas Morirán

At some point in life, you come face-to-face with the reality of your own mortality. All things that live will eventually die. It is a fact of life, but it can be hard to face at times.

Death is an essential part of the circle of life. Whether you are talking about a Human being, an animal, or a plant, every living thing comes alive at some point. For Humans and animals, the first step in the circle of life is birth.

From birth onward, the life cycle is focused on survival. If you survive, you grow and mature. At some point, your body begins to age more rapidly until your eventual death ends the life cycle.

For some, survival is fairly easy, and they are able to concentrate on many enjoyable aspects of life. For most, survival is a day-to-day task that requires effort and energy.

Because survival can be such a struggle, the life cycle of some is very short.

You need to be reminded that life is too short to spend everyday doing work you hate. Life is too short to hold grudges against people you love.

Life is too short not to see the wonders of the World. Life is too short to not live life to the fullest.

Life is short, youth is finite, and opportunities endless.

Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
Under my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
Full merrily;
Yet all things must die.
The stream will cease to flow;
The wind will cease to blow;
The clouds will cease to fleet;
The heart will cease to beat;
For all things must die.

All things must die.
Spring will come never more.
Oh! vanity!
Death waits at the door.
See! our friends are all forsaking
The wine and the merrymaking.
We are called ­ we must go.
Laid low, very low,
In the dark we must lie.
The merry glees are still;
The voice of the bird
Shall no more be heard,
Nor the wind on the hill.
Oh! misery!
Hark! death is calling
While I speak to ye,
The jaw is falling,
The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing;
Ice with the warm blood mixing;
The eyeballs fixing.
Nine times goes the passing bell:
Ye merry souls, farewell.
The old earth
Had a birth,
As all men know,
Long ago.
And the old earth must die.
So let the warm winds range,
And the blue wave beat the shore;
For even and morn
Ye will never see
Through eternity.
All things were born.
Ye will come never more,
For all things must die.

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