09. This Valley is Filled With Death

Take a step back… how did I get here?

A few lifetimes ago, I came upon an ancient river
flowing through Babylon and I drank from the waters,
I drank so much that I fell into a deep sleep and just
opened by eyes.

I am unsure what woke me. I want to believe it was myself,
that some core primal energy unthawed and
completed its assigned task, reading from
the genetic code given in that moment
the infinite point exploded in nuclear plasma.

I kept some of the signatures.
I still have the scars.

Flying through nothing.
Moving through a dark matrix
imbedded within the fabric of time.

Each body moves through give
and take.

Rain falls of course. This we know
from Newton and Einstein. Did they
know you can bend the rain to your will?

Did they see beyond the collective rain
and examine an individual drop and the
the story it contains, the fragment, a memory
of some lost experience erased from history?

I watch the rain stop, reverse, and flow upwards.
My gift back to heaven as I deny gluttony.

Death.

I fear not the process, the natural end of this time
here as I prepare for the next. I only fear the method
and I vow to meet its messenger on my
field with sword in hand beneath the falling white petals.

From atop this peak I see miles of
other peaks, tree lines, and death.

Not the way we imagine death to appear. No, this
is death beyond the existence, beyond the plane of
sight and feeling and response.

Wavering, pliable, silent wisps of memories –
fuzzy moments you try to remember years after
they and the feeling past, looking back with numbness
indifference, as they got you here.

Death came swift at times, death came hard at times
as the battle waged for years with some of the demons
entrenched in cement in the uncultivated field.

I look from this peak over the false beings within
that I conquered.

I look from this peak
at my truth.