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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1366450
One day, I saw a dead bird on the ground. It inspired me to write about life and death.
1
The movement of flight still lingers in your wings, now frozen with the stillness of death…
The wind breathes the memory of speed into your feathers, now stained with blood…
As your tiny body embarks on that transcendal journey from one world to another, I ponder which is the truest?
Are you dead? Or are you being born again into an existence more full of life, nay, beyond life, than our own ever were?
Where you are not limited by your mortal frailty…

2
"We are not of the body! We are not the body!"

3
Your putrid wings and sticky feathers move no more… Did they ever move?
Was the purported flight of your decomposing body a mere image of reality? Nothing but a chimera? A mesmerizing ghost of your futile dreams? Of our dreams? Dreams of life? When in truth… Alas…

4
"Eternity in an hour!"

5
Is it not so… That through the transition, you become alive? Truly alive… Alive… Free…. And alive…

6
Life beyond time…
Life beyond body…
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