INFINITE DEATHS

I lay on the sand of a Patagonian beach. Whales jump close to the shore. They move their tails, calling my attention. 

The sand is composed of medium size shells. And I realize that shells are fossils. And that a fossil is a trace of death.

Flies fly all around my body. There must be a dead animal close by, I guess. I move my arms, trying to make them go away. But they keep coming and touching my body. There are too many. 

So I surrender. I let the flies lay on my body as I lay on the sand, just doing nothing. My body gets covered with flies. And I realize this is what happens when your body is dead. I close my eyes. I let myself feel it. 

How many deaths in life are needed? 

How many times have I died to myself? 

How many deaths are to come?