Life is transitory. This was a farm horse, needed and valued, used to open the fields for planting and used to haul in the harvest. When he died of old age and weariness, the farmer didn't have the resources to do anything with the old guy, so he lay in the field in western Virginia and the beasts and birds gradually picked his bones clean. Sad? Maybe. But also quite ordinary, normal. Natural. We fear death and dying as a society, and so we glamorize it, make it almost unrecognizable. We hide the emotions, make the gore something to win film awards for, and ignore the important aspects. Where is the soul in those film and tv deaths? What do we say about the people? Do we even think any more of what happens afterward, or have we put all that "childishness" behind us? Have we become just the mud from which we were made? We were made to rise far far above that... have we stopped trying? That is what causes the problems of society, that cessation of trying to rise above the nature of mud. Not guns, not race, not poverty, not ill health. Giving up on being better.
I look at the stars at night, and while I see the far off bits of gas that burn and roil, I also see the lights that God put in the sky for us, to give us comfort and guide us. I see the glow of the unimaginable love of a Father for His children, wayward though we are. And I know that, insignificant as I am, I am loved.