The Heart Of The Beast----Page 15

A vision of my death. Pure in its finality.
But then realizing that I am still here.
Continuing with what I have to do today.
With death comes change. And the changes in
our lives are like little deaths of our former
selves. I want my former self to die. So that
my new self can face a radiant dawn.
I can't make water run up hill. But I can
run up hill. Hill after hill after hill. Until there
are no hills left. He ran up his own hills. He pulled
drunks out of the gutter. He died running up hill.
His friend ran up hill behind him until he left
his friend behind. He circled most of the world
searching for the sun.
The ship sailed four sheets to the wind. And
beached itself on the floor. Sailing through a
dreamless dark void of slumber. Memories can
live or die just like people. And calling my friend
and being barely able to speak. And waking up
in bed with my dream sleeping next to me.
Still alive.
Sometimes one can fall down the mountain.
That can be dangerous and lead to death. But
death is a door to something else. Sooner or
later that door will open for us all. And we
will move on. But we are frightened of the
unknown like a child. And like children we
stumble through the darkness and light of
our lives. It takes time to move on. Like it
takes time to learn. Feeling our way along
the wall of a darkened room searching for
the light.