The humor of this all will be the face of death.
Your lover will cease to be him or her.
Your family will slowly fade out.
Everything and everyone you know will eventually see through its eyes,
Including yourself.
It's enthralling to think of this,
That the entire world you've come to know will black out like someone turned the stars off.
And that's already happened for billions of humans that walk to where you now live.
They had their fears,
Their dreams,
Their religious doctrines in one hand,
The flags of their nations in the other,
Their prejudices,
Thoughts and accomplishments written on their bodies,
Only to witness them turn into nothing,
To see their true worth.
It's only to then realize that the most important experience worth living for on this side of the grave was love.
I know that sounds cliche in a sense.
The word love gets thrown around by poets a fair bit.
But from a philosophical perspective,
I think love is the only thing that doesn't wear the mask of death.
It transcends time.
It gives meaning to our bittersweet world and purpose to our brief existence.
The Love.