Diary of a dead man...

The evening is raw. There are birds of prey all around in the sky flying low in concentric circles, unnerved by a human presence below. They screech their high pitched songs into the moist air, which cut into my bones and send shivers down my spine. Appearing like mere silhouettes of their majestic tribe, they beckon the dusk and with each circumambulation it seems to reach closer and closer. The sky starts to close on me and soon I am surrounded by fluttering falcons, one of which tears a ligament right out of my shoulder.

How I loved to watch the sun go down and bathe in the warmth of its aftermath. Streaks of clouds changing shapes in the golden gloss, inches above the horizon hooked me tight until they turned grey and smudgy and I knew it was time to go back home, to the warmth of the hearth. I loved to walk on my feet and push the earth down with every step. I was in full control of things in and about my life. Sometimes I walked out of cafes with my arm around her and she loved to be held so. It was all at this hour, and it was all mine. Today I lay here still, arms and legs in full directional projection. They tear deeper into my arm.

When I was young I loved to jump into things and make mistakes only to hurt myself in the end. What lovely pain! There were fights and climbing and falls and recoveries from overtly confounded head rushes. There were people and stories and histories and lonely spells. There were no things I ever had regrets for, but only that they lasted for a very short time. Then there was growing up and the process of maturing that gave me opportunities for new mistakes and fights and falls and love and pain. There were moments when I was and some when I really was not proud of myself, but no regrets at living as I did. But was that a short life! One of them tethers its talons into my bare chest. Rest follow.

There were a thousand dreams and I lived them all one by one, but with each one a thousand more sprang like hydra and ran all around like little bunnies. I chased after them each day, caging them and caressing them, as I ran into her one of those evenings. She looked deeply into my eyes as I was busy digging up a hole, making some music of own. She snatched the shovel out of my hand and I knew my soul had met her twin. There were heartaches and rains and long strains of drizzling love. But all that ended all too soon.

And I am here now beneath four pairs of razor sharp beaks and talons. They rip out my heart and it hurts, even though it doesn’t. I must go far away now, even though I mustn’t. It all has to end up like this, but the journey was worth all its very while. Soon they will gouge out my eyes and I will be one with the earth, exposed to further deconstruction. My memories will however remain in the air, in every heart.