Where does the hand become the wrist?
Where does the neck become the shoulder?
21, he counted them one by one. Were they enough?
Enough to cover the line of destiny, where he finally merges
with his fate
The fate that he loved and pursued so earnestly
The fate that hated him so diligently
The galvanic response of his skin reminded him
that like anything else dying required practice.
He sat there, staring at his palm, for a minute or two,
since it was never too late to start the practice.
Above the space where they formed their blissful
constellation
All he saw were his callouses, a reminder of his daily
struggle,
Struggle to live
And now he realized that the art if dying is even so much
harder to master.