A walking cadaver feasting yet never full. Hollow sunken cheeks. Fetid breath. Mortuary bones clacking like castanets signal a dirge for a being hanging onto life yet bound for the grave. More specter than man. A rambling absurdity. Vultures patiently await thy final fall. Ye reek of the morgue. Thy entire body festers as a gangrenous wound. He beckons! He beckons! Rub him down with frankincense and myrrh! Ready thy flesh for winding sheet and cooling board. Turn back all covered mirrors! Face thy head to the North Star. Every road ye tread leads to the crypt. Thy Tomb awaits thee and bids thee step in.
Island of the Damned by Bocklin
The smell of death accompanies thy uprising and approach. A stench emanating from thy despoiled core lingers in every room. Onlookers vainly swing their heads in disgust trying to dislodge tastes of putrid flesh invading their tongues. Youth and health have been dispersed to the gale like leaves whipped by the windstorm then fallen to soil. Leaves decomposing returning to the earth from whence they came. No potions, brews or concoctions from Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe can save thee now. Threescore and ten shall not be thine for the Fates are poised to cut life’s cord.
The Pale Horseman rides for thee. This night thy soul is required. Ferry passage has been booked and Charon awaits you dockside for thy journey across the River Styx. Once shiny obsidian bursting with life now ye become dusty white-grey urn ashes. A tree that once stood tall in the forest has fallen never to rise again. Strong saplings are pine boxes for many Potters Fields.
Once to the bazaar now to the funeral. Maggot courtiers await the beck and call of thy rotted corpse. Hypnos wicked opium dram shall deliver thy harvest ready soul gathered unto Thanatos sickle and scythe. Journeys fueled by alcohol, cigarettes and sugar end much too soon. Yonder cemetery will be thy new home.
While walking the Woodland Green I paused to admire a luminescent mossy patch upon the ground when a preternatural calm descended upon the forest glen. Caught in a vortex the earth began to spin.
Then came a vast rustling of leaves and branches so strong that I thought the mighty Looming verdant giants would come crashing down. Whilst caught mid-spin I kept my eye on light shone down from the jagged Oculus mid the canopy of trees. Forms free-falling started to take shape. A veritable multitude of amalgam multifeatured animals like none seen in God’s Natural Kingdom.
Seemingly Middle Earth had exploded skyward hurtling forth a cornucopia of imps, fairies, hobgoblins, and satyrs, gremlins with their symphony of resounding bleats, howls, and shrieks. As they struck twig strewn ground at once began leaping, frolicking and gamboling in a macabre dance, a bier simultaneously appearing in forest clearing. Such a cacophony of squeaks, squawks, hisses and moans that assailed my senses that I shut up my ears attempting to block the imprisoning noises.
Foggy Misty morn over Central Park in the ball field
The Bier seeming to be the only source of calm called me forth from this forest den of iniquity bidding me peace, calm and tranquility from the storm. I answered Bier’s call to lie upon its violet flowered shroud surrendering to dreams eternal of the Babes in the Wood.
Before Hypnos rendered his potion and twin Thanatos grasped my hand in final repose, I heard on nigh the beating winged hooves, snorting of frenzied galloping hooves. Redemption, Salvation and Deliverance arrived in the equine forms of Royal Unicorn and Winged Pegasus. Equestrian gods breathed life upon whisking me away to Utopian shores.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 