five grotesque figures
shrouded in brain-fog
stand over the warm remains
like chameleon-masked soul hunters
huddling around the ecstatic heat
thrown from the glowing fire
of a sacrificial stone altar

as it nicks bone
the blade sings

dividing skeleton and flesh
and like one discerning
meaning from word
it separates body and mind
until only soul remains

and the blade sings

in farewell overtones
through the staccato of ribs
and the slurred speech of penance

there is a fear of letting go
as each of the five whisper
"now is the time for surrender"

and in resigning my fear
i forfeit my will and freely admit

it is time to depart

destination:
my next arrival