They say lightening never strikes twice,
but the fire in my belly is electric,
I’ve felt this flame before.
Burnt to the core.
My skeleton’s smoldering,
flesh feeding electric currents,
surging through my liquid body.
This sack of fluid burnt bones rest in
makes an ample conductor
for this moment of truth.
As flesh falls to the floor,
oozing off an already scorched skeleton,
I am calm.
A detached observer.
Perhaps the first fatal strike
numbed my nervous system.
Perhaps this moment is just
a figment of my imagination.
Nothing feels real these days,
the surreality of it is my detachment.
I am the charred skeleton that remains,
the flesh dripping of these darkened bones
is reminiscent of impermanence,
that life is transition,
true death is immobility.
Move through the fire,
let flesh fall where it may.
Archie Underwood
3/21/2008
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