VI (Sight)

As if through a web of obsidian silk
 My sight returns as from a dream
 A dream empty of thoughts and sounds and visions
 And I remember it being one of the most beautiful places I had ever been
 I had never before that point known such peace
 A winter for the spirit, I was harvested of essence
 A place of endless solace placating this soul's corroded ruins
 Bereft of flesh, divorced of earth, severed of being
 And now I can drift once again but soaring free
 I can look down upon all I once know - all I once was
 And see with the cold, crystalline clarity of the dead
 Through eyes unmisted, a mind unfogged, free of the oppressive weight
 Of the cathedral's dead stone
 Of this body's withered flesh
 Of this mind's shattered synapses
 I didn't think such a quiet was possible
 That the relentless roil of rage and despair thrumming like lava through me
 Could be extinguished
 And given over to a plateau of calm stillness
 I embrace this season of ending
 With every fiber of my departing consciousness
 Frozen and eternal
 A winter for the soul carried on oblivion's ghostly breath
 One last final exhortation
 To the violent winds that rend and rend and rend and rend
 I surrender
 I descend
 I dissolve
 I end.