The only sensation is the slow pulsing beat of the rhythm of life. The head of the clan lies frail in the bed. Choked whispers reveal his last words. Loved ones softly weep holding lifeless hands, while others stand in silent prayer. A man of black cloth pours Holy Oil, performing life's last ritual.
Sands silently fall.
Stages continue, as labored transition proceeds. The heavy head droops. Eyes no longer see. Quiet breathing goes unperceived. The clock stops, a body dies.