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POSSIBLE Feb 2016
I was walking down the street at a brisk pace
when I stuttered and began to face
a vision, so moving it halted my movement.  I stood there

in the middle of a street, facing an a sort of internal realization.

This vision began above a group of people, dressed in scrubs and surrounding a elder.

Within their hands, they held bloodied tools, an echo of their previous action.

All of them paused when they determined the cause of the old man's death.

"Ah! That's what was wrong!  No wonder he couldn't live happily in society.It appears we aren't the only ones to have performed surgery on this individual.

You see, this man's heart has been replaced by his brain, and his brain replaced by his heart."


The surgeons began to laugh maniacally, for they knew their world and their culture had claimed another.  The ways of the ego had etched a new notch on the marble Of history.

One by one, doctor and nurse turned and filed out of the room, revealing
the barbed devil tails they all bore as they walked swiftly towards the door.

Floating above this scene filled me with sorrow.  

Here lies a beautiful soul, One who always thought from his heart and felt by reason.  Morals were his sign language.Love was his action, and he died because he couldn't stop Feeling with his heart.
  
Details of the elder's life began to reveal themselves to me.  I saw his contribution.

His self-sacrifice.  The times where he had given more love than he should have.

I witnessed when love became something more than physical.  I cried when I saw it transcend even that, when he began to treat love as an illuminated understanding

of being.

As his life revealed itself to me forward and backwards

I saw that I was this man.
I saw that my heart had died and put me into a coma.
I saw that I wanted to wake up, but not into that world.

Such a dreamer, I can never wake up.
Epilepsy

— The End —