(The Great Unreal) The Dead Man's Door

(Dedicated to: Radovan Karadzic ((of Pale, Bosnia))

Cold eyed, she stood, blood burning, lurking at death

with death at hand—unweaving, she watched in silence

muffled, nerves dying, dim went his vision, then grief!

(She thought: he might find peace…!)

Passion had bleached out long ago, while living…!

There seemed to be an examining from one life to the next,

so he felt, and face showed, as she witnessed his death,

a dark storm in-between, filled his transitional world to be;

he had no garments on now, naked (undressed)—and now he unaligned himself from the tomb of his body, leaving

nothing but a shell behind, then he coiled his way out…out…!

His blood, now like clumped like sea water, emptied out,

with his soul; unwound, spinning, unsure if he should enter this shadowless door, the door was no more than a crack in a wall—

(but it looked to be –a captivity inside a canyon)—

Smoke filled its depths: she could see, slightly beyond the

man’s weightless mass, his agonizing soul, see slightly

beyond; there, there, were eyes, eyes, seeping out,

soared from the great canyon below, in echoic moans—

vibrating the upper rim, in multiform (with a scent of pride)

The man now was in the crack, felt the air and the wind,

underneath him, pushing, hot currents pulling him,

like the claws of a condor…death, death…reeked the rim!

She pulled herself back a tinge in fear the earth would gobble her.

The air became unbreathable, Ghouls, crows, imps and devils danced, on hooves and did summersaults on hooked claws,

for the man had stepped down, and was beyond crack of the door.

Out flew black doves, hawks, snapping at his soul…!

Bleak, Cadaverous desires filled her eyes, and she didn’t know why?

Heaven was empty for her heart, filled with wretchedness.

Deep embedded eye pits, dark black circles around them, raining with

phantom like desires, all that lived was but a substance to keep

ecstasy alive, for the dead (so she was learning) the cold substance deep

in the heart of the unfleshed; to keep the functions going from day to day, for the unrest, to fulfill their hearts was the trick, like an eagles passion (--but why did he allow her to see the death of a soul, the dead mans door?)) The Great Unreal)), she left life behind, flew to death beyond death;

stood erect, and watched it…stooped over it, to see it, who was the prey? Someone had lit the torch necessary to burn bright, to melt wax around her soul, to see the Great Unreal, and then, to capture her soul.

#1696 2-19-2’’7