From A Great Height

From A Great Height

You crack your skull against the
ground and then you see the sky. Your finger trembles forward,
up, but can not reach the tendril clouds. Finally,
finally,
heaven- out of reach.
From time uncounted you were in the stratosphere. You did not live. You did not have blood or a
heart to pump it or organs to feed it to. You did not have the feelings or zest for life that
fabricates the soul.
Now you have blood and your heart is pumping it and the big organ in your head is trying to will
it to stop but it will not. Currently you are feeling less a zest for life and more a zest for not dying
that you possess.
You wonder briefly if those are the same.
You wonder briefly if this is pain.
You can’t see it but you can feel the pulsating warmth leaking from your fractured skull. The
blood you just achieved now exiting so easily. Like a twelfth-century saint painted with the
copper plate of a halo behind their head, you feel your own circle stickily beneath you.
Once more- a holy thing.
You witnessed animals and plants and people doing things the living do. You witnessed and you
wanted to do those things, too. You wanted to see and feel and taste and think and run and dance
and stretch up to the sunlight.
The first mistake was wanting. You knew this.
You did it anyway.
Now you see the sky and feel the hardness of the ground and taste your fleshy mouth, but you are
having trouble with sensations and interpreting them like a person, which is what you are now.
The form you are is them. You. You you you you you you are a person. This is not the word they
call themselves. You is othering. You is others. The individual that is not other but is your
personal existence is not referred to as you. It is called by that person as
me
or
I
A person is an I and a person is the form you are. You are a person who is a me who is what an I
is.
Me me me me me I I I I I I not you you you you you I gaze at the sky while my my my min mine
my vision is darkening at the edges. They are closing in on you. Despite the diminishing blood
your my heart beats an erratic nonsense rhythm. Like it knows it will stop soon.
You I am cold.
I you are in pain.
I am a person who is you who is me who is I.
You I am are dying, and I you are am afraid.