Corpse In The Woods

The following is a poetic rendition of a dream I had, not so long ago.  I like to turn my dreams into poems, in honor of the gods who inspire them.  It’s a good way for me to show my appreciation of the experience shared between us.


Corpse In The Woods

My corpse lays still upon the Earth
Dead eyes stare into the gray sky, through a tunnel of darkness

A lump of meat, a disassociated soul

The scent of death surrounds me
Knowing the scavengers will soon arrive

I will be devoured
I will be consumed
This is best, I think
I will be of use
At least

I am dead
But the heart still beats
Slowly, erratically
The only part of me still living

It has caused this rot
This stain, the root of which is life, unrequited
Freedom disdained

“Feel the dull ache of past hurts, wounds that never truly healed.”

His voice, sorrowful
Reverberating through the wood
Hollows my lingering awareness
To spread Himself out, like a fog

Dead limbs will not move
He approaches, laying a hand over clouded eyes
Silhouetted against gray
This shadow of ominous love

Gentle fingers close slackened lids
Then, His hand rests above my heart

“Festering contamination.”

Such loathing
I feel it
He hates these wounds

“I will have this vessel, this wounded heart.”

An eager savagery ensues
My chest is torn
The ache grows, deepens, blooms
Hurts more and more
And more

I need this

“Yes,” He answers. “You need this.”


This particular dream came at a time when I had closed myself off from my emotions.  I feared the vulnerability and pain which often accompanied them. Of course, in doing so, I also eliminated the possibility of feeling joy, and that, Apollon would not accept.

Joy and pain.  One can not be had without the other.  I might as well have been dead when my Lord found me, like a corpse in the woods.


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