Loneliness and death
Loneliness... So often we complain in our daily contacts, in literature or as a form of social criticism, about loneliness, but how spurious and pale it compares to the loneliness only known to the dying before his consciousness is stolen and he surrenders to the night-without-end.
The senses extinguish each after the other, reportedly the auditory one last to leave.
By then, the consciousness probably has long since burned out. And before this falls to him?
Sinking into a dream state, pennants of hallucinations lancing into the shuddering mind or the same mind drifting into an alertness clear as a mountain brook whereas all sensations start to become cloudy, nesting in a large empty hall while fading away like tenuous air that flows in the highest strata of the atmosphere kissing the void of outer space.
Or maybe it is not different to a radio, playing music, then suddenly a hand turns the radio off, weaving threads of silence that dance to the drumbeats of loss while eyes veiled cast their anchors at the sight of mystery.
The senses extinguish each after the other, reportedly the auditory one last to leave.
By then, the consciousness probably has long since burned out. And before this falls to him?
Sinking into a dream state, pennants of hallucinations lancing into the shuddering mind or the same mind drifting into an alertness clear as a mountain brook whereas all sensations start to become cloudy, nesting in a large empty hall while fading away like tenuous air that flows in the highest strata of the atmosphere kissing the void of outer space.
Or maybe it is not different to a radio, playing music, then suddenly a hand turns the radio off, weaving threads of silence that dance to the drumbeats of loss while eyes veiled cast their anchors at the sight of mystery.
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