Passing on

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

I’m in a different reality. One where if one had naught to draw a breath, and perhaps one had a loss of sight, one might confuse water with air. The water around you is just heavy, cold, thick air. It all makes sense until you draw breath and the lungs burn. The head explodes internally, fireworks damage microscopic nerves in the brain. I’m held against my will in this surrealistic environment. The longer I stay down here, the harder pounding is between my head. Azrael is knocking and with each knock, the door shifts. Azrael whispers, he beckons. His whispers bounce through my souls mind. “Limbo quod perierat” No translation was needed. The language, while nonsensical, needed no further deciphering. It was a lost language. Lost. “Perdita” but not forgotten. The words brought me great sadness for they meant that once I left this reality, nothing waited for me. It was not perilous and not frivolous. Just an empty wasteland. Enlightening thoughts enter. Enlightening but sorrowful. I linger in limbo even now. There is one moment where one is not yet dead. I am in this moment. I exist in the small threads of time that are not yet in death or peril, nor in life and salvation. I am not sinking nor am I surviving. In this water wasteland; a mirror image of the reality I will soon inhabit. My blind eyes are indifferent to the change from water to wasteland. I pay attention....Then i let go. 


Submitted: December 10, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Lotus Graves. All rights reserved.

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Good sybolism. Yet touching

Tue, February 5th, 2019 11:07am

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