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Poem: The Dangerous Flight

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  • #72300

    First, that dangerous flight.
    Large vistas in
    every sunlit direction
    offering fulfillment.
    Your mouth became full with skies.

    Then, it changed, slowly
    and where you once soared
    you had to strain your wings.
    Your beaten paths
    now crossed those
    once considered holy.
    Journeys planned became forgotten.

    At last, trudging over dusty ground
    dragging your decaying sack of flesh
    along the one remaining path
    you slow your pace
    speaking in silence
    wishing for time,
    seeking beauty.

    And now, each step is pain
    each breath, a crushing wave.
    The sky blackens
    the silence roars
    your tongue is full of dust.
    You fall to your knees,
    sink to the earth,
    and roll to face the night.
    The stars, once forgotten,
    smile as they always have
    welcoming us home with jets
    of milk and countless numbers
    of suns.


    Thank you, Myrmidion, for your beautiful, bittersweet verse. Having reached a certain age, it definitely resonates!


    I tried to convey that death is not to be feared but is instead a return. All paths end up in one path.

    My thought is that as we die our perception of time dilates while we are undergoing a psychedelic (“mind manifesting”) experience that is an actual altered state of consciousness. During those last few minutes of life we see our lives through the window of myth, either those we have created for ourselves or those that we have used to model our understanding of the universe.

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