Untouched by the light of life
Unfased by the sweet decay
The aroma of warm, pulsating skin
A non-being is redirected
Into a parallel state
Parallel to what we perceive
But
We can sense
We are not totally removed
We may feel the faint electrical impulses
That connect us
The form, from non-form
This is truly alien
Utter exile
Yet there may be the faintest of whispers
To affect us
One of us
All of us
I'm not sure
But I may be so inclined to take pause
For a moment to listen
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