In the Seam

We have passed from death unto life

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This is not a border,

boundary, reality

I thought I would remember

crossing.

I suppose I must have

toed the line

to get here, to Earth,

to the joyful pain

of living and loving. But

stealing away

to death?

I was too busy being alive

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

to think about the eternity

hidden behind the curtain.

But when you

clumsily exit the body

and the boundary between

life and the spirit grows

fuzzy and worn,

You start to eye the foundations

and gateway of death, which

somehow doesn’t mean

the end of thought, or mind,

or passion for art, the run,

the periodic elements,

the sway of horses or the

upraised hands in a classroom,

the blocks of code or concrete.

I never knew how close I would

be to the living even

in death—the only thing dead

in me now the fear

of departing the known.

I have entered a sacred reality,

and it’s more real

than my clearest dwelling

memories. This seam between

here and there is not black,

heralded by grinning bones or

somber notes peeling

into a forever void of meaning.

It’s bright.

A single step

and you’re there.