[myrmidon]

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.

[Stephen Gerringer]

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

[myrmidon]

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.

[Author]

Posts