To share what is not ours

There is a small reward for dying today. Please pardon the morbidity of such an offer. It is in no effort to clear the earth of citizens. No. In fact, we wish you would populate more fully. But spread out. You live too closely. Your closet leads to anothers' bedroom. We wish you all the luck in the world.

No, the reward for dying is only for those who pass of natural causes. We, who divy the reward, know exactly the circumstances around your leaving. We see honesty in all its colors. Dishonesty we abhor.

We do not look to the day and wonder who will die. We have other things to do. The reward is simply there. Not for those who seek it, but for those who, stumbling, in one way or another, happen to find their way to us.

Would you like to know the reward?

We will throw you a curious glance. That is not the reward. The reward comes after the glance, but the glance itself is worth a thousand lifetimes. We are the ones who bear the look. The effect on each is multivarious and transformative. You wonder who you are and realize it in abstract terms. Such sure knowing, yet it is slightly out of language's grasp. It is white space. It is singular knowing in a dimensional coating.

The water runs deep, and we await.