I was visited again by Death. Not the hooded creature, but a shadow of my own cadence slid across the cortex of my mind the place where the rational man falls to the unceasing siege of the animal, where every edge of every plane of time thrusts itself and interrupts our daydreams to inter seeds of fear of frustration of hope of anger of things gone of things we wish of things we want of things we dare never speak aloud.
It (I) brought to me (myself) no vision of my own demise, no recycled image from film or phone or fable. It brought worse:
My own house. My own floor. My own back hunched. My own legs crossed. My own head bowed. My own shoulders heaving. My own arms flaccid. My own lap heavy. My own son Limp.
Brown curls on a blue forehead in a peaceful, lifeless rest. A pietà.
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I fade away as I appeared, and revive. A searing kiss on both eyes.
Brown curls on a pink forehead in a peaceful, mid-meal grin. A Cheerio.
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Wake up! Wake up! Arise! Look out! and See and Be and Grasp the Goodness of All around You.