Archive
10/01/08 - (2)
Paper Cut
All my extensively eventful life, I've heard responsible and reasonable people tell me "Time's running out"
And never quite understood the palpable urgency Driving that cautionary estimation, Forcing them to express desperation, over mortality,
Never really appreciated Their penetrating fear, anxiety, mortification, Contemplating the other side of the abyssal divide...
Not, that is, until tonight, When, having suffered a paper cut, on my right thumb, I sense the extent of my vulnerability,
The liability of demise, nonexistence, The cessation of emotion, intelligence, consciousness, Seeing, touching, intimacy, pain.
That we relinquish, when we stop breathing, The gift human beings inherit, As birth delivers us from silence's shackles
And gives us permission to be, For however long our destiny unfolds, Goes against every cell of my desire to endure, thrive. Now, I'm certain I'll disprove, forever, The notion that "time's running out." From this day forth, I'll never allow myself to die.
10/01/08 - (2)
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