Leonard Cohen’s great song is about death and it pulls no punches concerning something that we all share, however we choose to face or avoid thinking about it. I’m seventy-two and have been brushed by it’s dark wings a few times: I almost drowned in Sicily, had loaded pistols pointed at my face, narrowly missed being stuck by lightening (twice), mortars, rockets, etc. Now I know it could come quietly to me in the deep of the night, or while enjoying a sandwich at noon. This head of a Bodisattva from the Ist Century AD seems to have the slightest smile if you look closely. Perhaps it’s also making a statement about death that might not be so terrifying. 
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jundanu 