A shadow of himself
The soul leaves him rapidly. His spirit fades. His eyes are the only vessel holding him there, hanging on a tender thread below the darken oasis of universe where he’s ought to fall soon.
Pain.
The body and the physical world has noth’ else to offer but suffering. A slight smile leaves his thin lips as I approach him. A shadow of once shining bravery where the ground once trembled under his feet, now his steps shake upon each move.
Unsteady.
His breath, the way of drops of fluid down his throath, the bones piercing through his skin. His chest collapses rapidly. Where will he go? Where will he be? Is he still here?
I can’t find him. I can’t find him. Where am I?
Calm down. — I hear her. Inside my head. Even though she is constructed by my subconscious she has spoken.
‘Calm down.’
He sits right in front of us, we can’t show signs of panic. He might notice. He’s still there. He’s still here.
‘This doen’t happen day by day.’ — our mother says.
Then why do I feel the paralysing, stifling grip of dread and panic?
I feel something is opening. A dark heavy gate. Maybe ain’t dark — perhaps it’s just heavy.
It transports life — into realm of death.
— under the light: anguish
May 18th, 2022
