Til Death Do Us Part

Rain poured.  He sat on his unkempt bed, in the polluted room.  He sat as king, king of the wild, king of the beasts.  Murky-eyed, morose, as sullen as a corpse, he neither stirred nor thought.  He just was.  Then, suddenly, thoughts poured in, as a thunderous waterfall pours to imminent demise.  The procession began to march.  The stout, portly, robed man, the flowers which smelled of death all resounding in the deep cavities of the mind.1

“I love you forever, honey,” he said.2

“Promise you will never let me go,” she said.3

“I promise to always hold you…. 4

….’Til death do us part…” he muttered.5

The euphoria jumped onto his face, covering corner to corner in a generous smirk.       6

The procession continued on its death march, as a broken record refuses to tire.  7

He felt flesh.  He was ignorant to the feel of his own skin.  His had long since dilapidated leaving nothing but a shell. He knew skin, their skin.  The tightly held fabrics of a human, steadfast to the body, rooted as a tree is to the ground.  8

He knew eyes, eyes as deep as translucent puddles, enticing the moonlight to play their game of hide and seek. He knew fear.  He knew its smell, as a bear hold on to the smell of salmon.  Fear became as obvious and concrete to him as a book, or a rock.  He could grab it; pocket it, stored for later use at his own whim and discretion.  9

He had died long ago.  He was buried already six feet under, awaiting decomposition. The mosquito buzzed, briskly landing and dismounting, seconds away from looming destruction.  It was persistent and lacked fear.  He murdered it as abruptly as it came into existence.  He stoically annihilated it.  No newness embraced in the ritual.  He observed the bloodied mess on his pale, sickly forearm, and only realized it ceased to move.  All he ever knew was they ceased to move.  The always do.10

As he stagnantly meditated, the stillness embraced him, blanketed him, as a mother blankets her long lost child.  The silence was of another world, a world full of sadness and despair.  11

He felt time, yet he did not know it.  Time escaped as quickly as it came.12

Death is the place we come from and the place we will return to, the only certainty in life.13

They stood, mocking him.  They mock because they do not know.  They do not understand.  14

THEY ARE WHO ARE WRONG! 15

He missed the white light.  He longed to embrace its loving easiness.  He wanted the light.  Once before had he felt the radiating effects of its goodness.  Once had he missed the opportunity to truly be enveloped in it.  16

They screamed.  They tried to escape from the light.  He was bearer of the unattainable masterpiece.  He cradled it.  He doled out necessary amounts.  He carried it in the pouch that encumbered him.  He knew the laments of the poor losers.  He felt their pleas.  17

In the confines of the highway unattainable and unreachable by humans, he held hidden knowledge, and the light.  He knew all.  He seemed inhuman, yet was as human as all others.18

“Leave me ALONE!”19

They did not realize his power.  They will succumb to his will.  They will. 20

“’Til death do us part.”21

“’Til death and beyond.”22

He felt the breath on his neck.  He was flying on borrowed time.  23

He knew his struggles were over.  His trail ends, as all do.  He tried to shortcut it, even abandon it, yet he ended at the final destination.  It always does.  24

He felt a purge, a twinge.  He felt pure.  Time stopped.  The sun permeating through the dismal clouds sagged.  The dazzling and convalescent radiation came to the forefront.  25

Drip drop26

Jubilation replaced stings, scars, and wounds. He did not know trouble.  He did not know desire.  He did not know greed, fear, and happiness.  He knew he was.  27

He knew light.  He grabbed the light.  He held on.28

“I’m coming home.”29

“I am waiting for you.”30

He was no longer a part of his body or mind.  He was part of the universal mind.  He was a whole mind.  He knew death held the secret.  He knew it as the greatest secret ever.  He had become its follower.  He followed the violet cascading light into infinite clarity.  The light carried away what he was, carrying him towards what he always should have been.  Perfection ascertained.  Sleep.  Life’s a dream.  It is time to wake up.  31

Finally, for the first time, he had done something out of love.32