and so there he sat, first wailing at the sky, hands fisted - up and down at his sides - and knuckles whitened, "oh no, no, no, no, no, no." something had changed and that was certain and but something had remained and that which remained was greater than or equal to that which had changed but this, for him, was still unclear at this point and would remain so, unclear, for some time to come. and for when that realization comes, it will be too late.
some one or thing was gone for him and basically for no one else, just for him. and some portion of life's love had gone with the departure. things were awkward and subnormal.
and back up to the sky, like there was an answer there for him. "time to get old or whatever."
and but the weight of the loss just bearing down on his bones heavily and incessantly. a boulder, a mountain, the globe at least. so that slowly the bones creak and crumble to dust. from bottom to top. first the feet and ankles, then the strong tibia and weak fibula of the shin. and the face just delirious, a frozen rictus staring down at the the gathering pile of skin and now-boneless muscle amassing on the ground underneath itself. and the head just slowly, stepwise descending to the pile with each crash of weight. then the long femur and the pelvis, noisily like twisting metal. the weight, his thoughts just dusting him. borne of its own poison. and ribs cracking together and eviscerated. all the while, head descending, face smiling somehow, and staring at himself without recognition or an apparent solitary thought. not in awe, not in pain, or despair, or even appreciating the finality, just dumb and blinking...and smiling frozen.
