There are 72-deaths, and God said, "Pick one," and so he did, "To Death," was its name: its eyes were sleepy, droopy. He then wondered what the other 71-deaths were like?
Many were among the dark hills, stone-forests below...! Waters full of flames, undrinkable!
Stagnant, he slowly glided down its gap, to its warm end, from its glaciers of cold sweat, from flesh, and found death to be a friend (for a while anyways); no dread, just calm, sweet dancing in the dark—;here all the longing desires became beautifully-mad, with pounding.
As time passed, people trampled the dark path. Then he learned a prayer—one most everyone heard, but only a few said (it echoed throughout the halls and tunnels of death, it sounded something like this:
"Use us again, if only but for an hour...!"
Here in this death, one of 72, man is intact, like a pacing panther. This is the new life, and the best of the best, of death.