When Death Loses Its Sanctity

“When death loses its sanctity,

life slowly begins to lose its meaning…

In a world where humans,

with the press of a single button,

turn thousands of lives into mere numbers,

neither the devil remains meaningful,

nor even the fear of the end…

And perhaps the most terrifying truth is this:

the end is no longer an accident—

it is our choice.”

When Death Loses Its Sanctity

Faramarz Parsa

Azrael, weary and burdened, walked toward the heavens with steps heavier than his own belief.

Lost in a storm of disbelief, he was approached by the Cherubim, who, seeing his state, asked:

“What has befallen you, that you appear so broken?”

Azrael stopped. His shadow trembled, dim upon the crystal clarity of the heavens.

The Cherubim, their eternal chants stilled for a moment, said:

“O bearer of destiny, why does your robe carry no scent of farewell?

What is this strange dust upon your face?”

Azrael sighed—a sigh that deepened the silence:

“This… is the dust of denial.

The dust of a world that no longer believes even in death.

Down below, they have turned death into an industry.”

“Is that even possible? You are the sole keeper of this passage.

All souls must pass through your hands.”

“Once… yes.

But now, before I even arrive, they lose souls in fire and iron.

Death is no longer a sacred moment—

it is a number… in daily reports.”

He paused.

“With the press of a button, they scatter thousands of lives into fragments—

no farewell, no prayer, no name…”

The angels fell silent, exchanging troubled glances.

“Is there any remedy for this?”

“Humans have created beings without souls—

neither alive, nor dead.”

The Cherubim, unsettled, asked:

“What are these beings?”

Azrael gazed into the distant dark:

“Bodies without shadows…

neither born of earth, nor of light.

They destroy, without hatred.

They build, without love.

They consume time,

yet possess no presence.”

He hesitated, then added softly:

“The true horror is this:

humans see themselves in these creations…

and slowly become like them.”

“Could this be the work of the devil?”

Azrael shook his head:

“The devil has fled…

He says he no longer has a place in their minds.

They have forgotten even him.”

A cold silence settled among the angels.

Azrael moved on, lost in thought:

Is God aware of all this?

If He is—and nothing is hidden from Him—

then why does He remain silent?

At that moment, Gabriel descended.

“O Azrael, what troubles you?”

“I come from the world below…

where with the press of a button, a city and all its people vanish.

This desecration of death has wounded me.

Once, we destroyed a city by God’s command…

but now, man himself carries out the judgment.”

Gabriel replied:

“You speak the truth…

but this is not the end.”

Then, with a steady voice, he said:

“If man turns death into a game,

life will abandon him in return.

The faith that still remains in a few hearts

is the last thread connecting earth to heaven.

If that thread is broken…

there will be no need for you—

nor for me.”

A heavy silence fell.

This time, Azrael had no more questions.

He only looked down—

at a world that no longer feared death…

And perhaps…

this…

was the beginning of the end—

an ending

that man himself

had written.

————-

2026/3/18