I woke one morning, cramps in my legs, my feet, the effects of laying in a bed for six months, held there, my body confined to a bed, my mind freed to roam across boundless realms, guided by an immortal man touched and gifted by angels, fallen and chaste; the smell of the sea, the pungent smell of Maines inter-coastal waters, the smell I remember from my youth. I stood and walked to my bathroom. The arrayed things, hairbrushes, tooth-brushes, lotions and mouthwash, alien things for a man dead, raised up and made new. The one who raised me knew these things, dead and re-born, the awesome brilliance of mundane mortal things lost and rediscovered. There is nothing like dying and being raised up and being able to brush your teeth again. I would attempt to tell you what dying and being raised up and making love to a beautiful woman who loves you, whos waited for you, whos forgiven you, feels like, but I might crash worlds and detonate universes and break a few eggs. Suffice it to say, Ive been born anew, given a purpose and a new life, merged with the old, but given new lungs, the breathe fresh, the visions clearer and the willingness to die a spectral ring on my index finger, held out from a humble supplicant to he who tolls the bell. There is a time to die. I do not know it...so I mock it. Kisses and laughter are my swords. https://youtube/watch?v=izQsgE0L450
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 03:05:46 +0000