Death visited me the first time when i was a boy.  i watch'd the ants carrying on their backs the dying worm.
i felt something sad cried for the worm
for none of its family was around.

i felt the same when they cut down the huge tree I used to climb . Later many others would fall. 
i realised it was there for so many years before my  forefathers and i.
It housed so many birds, insects... i used to look at it all along my boyhood years, but, really 
' saw it ' when they cut it down.
That tree gone. A part of my childhood gone. A friend gone. Maybe parts of it has become a roof  to somebody's house, maybe furnitures, firewood and other things.

The space where it stood 
stood bare 
No more of the greenish blue light of the mornings 
No more evening chirps i used to know.... and to this day i think of it. How fulfilled the land looked when it was there. 

The sunlight split into the pits where the traces of the roots remained, the rains fell, as many as the seasons..

i ve never been there until the other day.... And i recalled how that boy felt.

Memory of a silent friend - a memory that never left me
reminding that i too one day will be gone.

Ever since  Death has visited me many times, through so  many ways.... From a boy i became a man.
Then, the day i lost my father i felt the chop on the trunk of my soul.
A bleeding.
An ordinary light became immortal.

Then 
From that day I never went to look for him else where other than in my heart, where also was the Tree.