ArchetypE

The Martyr

I am unsure I know but I am. I am going to tell you what I know. I am standing in front of the operating table and my blood pressure is walking on stilts. I am telling you the mass is absent from its veins and replaced with inexplicable terror. I am telling you its extremities are unrecognizable. I am centimeters away from its ugly. I am aghast. I am unable to escape the sight and so I am fighting the urge to retch. I am obligated to tell you this. The Earth held on as long as it could. That is until it no longer could. I am aware the world’s history suggests it had no pre-existing conditions. I am speaking with a cardiologist and they are saying easily, the cartography died from constant attack. I am realizing one truth: that all living things die. I am realizing another: most living things are killed. I am, somehow, the one performing the autopsy on this globe. I am the invitee. I am. I am asked by the world to fall into its wound. I am in disbelief that it wants to share space with me. I am spared from having to stitch it up back together again. I am becoming a part of it. I am becoming. I am close to reaching a breakthrough. I am breaking through.