The Swan Song
Autor: Rodrigo Lima | Publicado: 2010-05-26T22:13:00-03:00

* This post was inspired on the last episode of the fifth season of the TV series Supernatural.He had the key to cheat death in his hands. Everything was planned and such a plan was fail-proof or at least he thought so. It was an ordinary day when it happened. Not so long ago Hamlet was walking through a pizza place in Chicago. All of the sudden he decided to enter the restaurant. He was not hungry. He just knew he had to go inside.    It was a simple but yet charming place. There were a few people in the place but strangely they were sleeping. There was only this man with his serene attitude eating a pizza.     -- Hamlet – he said calmly but yet firm – have a seat.      He felt like entrapped in a cold atmosphere which, he had no doubt, was created by the strange figure dressed in black. Like compelled by an invisible force he headed to the man’s table. He sat. That was the moment to put his strategy into practice. He knew who the man was. No introductions were necessary. He took a deep breath but before Hamlet could say a word the man dressed in black read his eager eyes and said:       -- You overestimate the sense of your importance. To a thing like me a thing like you… well… think how you would feel if a bacteria sat on your table and started to get snuck. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system, in a galaxy that is barely out of its diapers. I am old. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you.     -- I gotta ask; how old are you? – said Hamlet in a uncontrollable wave of curiosity.     -- As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Regardless at the end I will reap Him too.     -- God? You are saying that you are going to reap God?     -- Sure. As I ripped many others before him. Greek, Celtic, Christian. Their fate take a longer road but its end is the same: me.     -- So why am I still breathing? Sitting here with you…     -- I have acknowledged that you have a plan to deceive me. I would like you to tell me this move of yours. If you can convince me you will live as long as you can bare listening to your pitiful heartbeats.                  Hamlet was surprised with such a haste but nothing less could be expected from Him. Silence. For almost three minutes both figures just sat one in front of the other without saying one single word, then He questioned:     -- What would you do if I said that today is going to be your last sunset over this world?     -- If today was my last day – started Hamlet plainly nervous, stuttering in his ready speech – and tomorrow was too late I would say goodbye to yesterday. I would live each moment like my last. I would forgive my enemies… - Death stared at him as only eyes of a particular blue shade can stare… bold… glassy… - Oh, fuck it! I am no martir. All I can think about is how much I am gonna miss this life.      -- What are you afraid of?     -- I am afraid of the unknown… of how long death is going to take and if there is a way out of it. I rather believe that death is just a transition until reincarnation happens to me and then I come back to this world which is the only I remember knowing.      -- You are not alone. Lots throughout history thought they would be smart enough to cheat me. There is always a dreamer who thinks that there is a place for them in a movie song. What they can not see is that there is no song or movie. In the end there is only silence.                 As they talked Hamlet felt it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He could barely hear the sounds beyond the man's voice. He thought about his house, his friends, his work. Nothing really mattered now. He wanted to believe he was going to miss all of this but he just didn’t feel like it. He wished to cry, to insist, but the truth was that there was no pain. There was nothing. Just a voice.  Endings are hard. Any monkey can pop up a beginning but endings are impossible. You try to tie every loose end but you never can and since it is the ending it is always supposed to mean something but it is all bullshit. The most meaningful things do not have an explanation.   Before taking his last deep breath Hamlet thought: “Who would say… readiness is indeed all”.