VI (Sight)

As if through a web of obsidian silk

My sight returns as from a dream

A dream empty of thoughts and sounds and visions

And I remember it being one of the most beautiful places I had ever been

I had never before that point known such peace

A winter for the spirit, I was harvested of essence

A place of endless solace placating this soul's corroded ruins

Bereft of flesh, divorced of earth, severed of being

And now I can drift once again but soaring free

I can look down upon all I once know - all I once was

And see with the cold, crystalline clarity of the dead

Through eyes unmisted, a mind unfogged, free of the oppressive weight

Of the cathedral's dead stone

Of this body's withered flesh

Of this mind's shattered synapses

I didn't think such a quiet was possible

That the relentless roil of rage and despair thrumming like lava through me

Could be extinguished

And given over to a plateau of calm stillness

I embrace this season of ending

With every fiber of my departing consciousness

Frozen and eternal

A winter for the soul carried on oblivion's ghostly breath

One last final exhortation

To the violent winds that rend and rend and rend and rend

I surrender

I descend

I dissolve

I end