Give me an 800-word composition entitled "Life and Death"

Life is the most precious thing in the world, but we can only have it once. Death is something people have to face. Life, we want to live a meaningful life, death, we want to die a fair death honors the whole life. So, what is the relationship between life and death? Some poets say: some people are alive, but they are dead; Some people died, but he is still alive. Please write a composition on the topic of "life and death". You can express your opinions, describe or express your feelings, and make up stories or fables. Self-made topic, no less than 800 words. Life is a responsibility, and death should be a sign of fulfilling this responsibility. We can't choose the time of death, but we can choose the attitude and meaning of life. Everything in the world has life. Plants are alive, so spring will flourish, autumn will wither, utensils are alive, tables and chairs are damaged, its life will come to an end, and even a beautiful fish tank will disappear at the moment of breaking. Animals and people have lives, so there will be birth, aging, illness and death. People only have one life, so live meaningfully. Everyone dies differently. At the end of the Ming Dynasty, Zhang Pu wrote "The Tomb Inscription of Five People" because of "Five People Died", saying that "the life and death of people are more important than the country". Before he died, Xia sang, "It doesn't matter if you behead, as long as the doctrine is true. Kill Xia, and later "; Li Xiangqun, a hero in fighting floods, gave his young life for the safety of the affected people. There is another kind of people who are afraid of death and drag out an ignoble existence at the expense of friends, collectives and nations. Hong Chengchou is as petty as a dog, and Shi Kefa is as honest as a plum; Wu Sangui is a traitor, and Wen Tianxiang died nine times to serve the country; Ji Hongchang dies standing, Wang Jingwei lives kneeling, and life and death are human beings. Everything in nature has its own way of birth and death. In fact, until this moment when I started writing, Zhang Guanran was still very confused in my heart. Countless experiences have turned into countless fragments these days, flashing in my mind like silhouettes, one after another, one after another ... I faced the death of my family for the first time since I was a child, and I didn't feel much about death. Walking to the alley where grandpa's house is located, I saw countless white notes on the wooden pole, like white tentacles, rising and sticking out in the wind, and then slowly hanging down, as if I wanted to reach something, but it was just around the corner but out of reach-life or dead soul? I don't understand, but I finally know that this is death. Night. The stars may be asleep, but the night sky is not quiet. A group of so-called "wizards" were whispering in a "mourning hall" built with rain-proof cloth. The so-called wizards are laid-off workers who wear a wide-sleeved black cloth jacket and a black hat over colorful clothes. The cloth coat doesn't seem to fit well, and the brand of the clothes inside is still discernible. A "master" somehow didn't even wear a hat, probably because he was afraid of crushing his freshly permed hair. I don't quite understand the lyrics, which means nothing more than calling the dead to heaven. In the middle, a man suddenly turned out a pile of small pictures printed with Buddha statues, muttered something to himself, and gracefully waved orchid fingers to put the pictures on his head. Maybe I'm too involved It took me three times to tie up the picture, and then I didn't forget to gently help the tape with my elegant orchid fingers. The orchid finger hasn't stopped. Suddenly, the bell and drum are ringing, and many drums, bells, gongs, gongs, and some unknown musical instruments like inverted frying pans make a sound of at least 100 decibels. As for music or noise, it's hard to say. The "masters" seem to be possessed by fox spirits, swaying from side to side, shaking their heads, and jumping up and down from time to time, like poisonous scorpions on chairs. This almost hysterical performance attracted many pedestrians to stop and watch, but while watching the excitement, they also saw the advertisements of large shroud shops on the shed. Many guests went home to pay their respects. An old lady-of course, she should call me grandma-cried her eyes out when she entered the door: "Oh, my brother Zhang!" " "I went into the room for a change of air." Why did you leave ... "I grunted and fell on the bed, repeating the sentence just now, but it only thundered and didn't rain." Everyone immediately came to persuade them, "You didn't suffer anything when the old man left, and the old lady stopped crying, so don't cry." "Oh, great! All right! I don't cry either. " Ji Ling said and sat up, and then walked away laughing. Early in the morning, on the road, a mighty funeral procession marched forward. I am my granddaughter, so I am honored to stand in the second place in the queue: but my granddaughter doesn't seem to have any special advantages at this time, but it can make people see more clearly when kowtowing to passing cars at the intersection. I don't know how I would feel if my grandfather's soul really existed. I don't know whether he has crossed over to the Elysium, whether he has become a Buddha and an immortal, whether he has received countless paper money that has already turned to dust, and whether he has enjoyed all those high offerings. I don't know if he saw the puzzled expression of the mourners, whether he saw passers-by pointing at them half jokingly and half sarcastically, whether he saw the mourners' face turn from sunny to rainy, whether he saw his linen mourning clothes and the big lacquer word "Raise thick and bury thin" at the door of the shroud store. Suddenly, I don't understand what death really means. I'm afraid even the gods, buddhas and all kinds of immortals that people worship can't be answered clearly. I don't know if I can think so. Death is just a sheep in wolf's skin, constantly yelling and demonstrating at you in the distance. In fact, if you look closely, except for a few teeth that are just enough to chew grass, you can only bleat. Comment: Life and death is a serious topic. However, the condolences described in this article are not so much solemn mourning for the dead as a farce directed by the living. Wizards dressed in colorful clothes seem to be possessed by fox spirits, and they attract many pedestrians to stop and watch with hysterical performances. Undertaker "tears shook the earth before entering the door", suddenly "sat up" and "walked away with a smile". The author described what he saw, heard and felt in a pungent and sophisticated style, and there was no lack of sharp sarcasm and calm thinking in his words. At the end of the article, the feeling that death is a "sheep in wolf skin" is quite novel and thought-provoking.