The Presence of Pain

I feel like falling today.  

Off my bike as I career down a dusty mountain path, dry plants slapping me as I fly past.  Fearlessly fast.  

Or off a skateboard down a long, winding pass.  

(amazing the amount of trust we put in these flimsy constructs of metal, wood and rubber, transporting us however dangerously we please)

So one minute I’ll be on it, in control.  The next I’ll be winging it as my wheels hit something unforgiving.

Off I’ll go. Ricocheted into space.

The flying part is cool but when I hit the ground it will be paaaaaaaaaain. That numbness before the burn, sting, sear of realisation as I look down and see what just happened to my body.

Is it broken? Shredded?  The grit of tar mixed with flecks of blackened and burned up skin.

And then liquid red, running.  Trembling hands try to stop it but it’s a neverending river, flowing through and out of the cracks in my skin and in between my fingers.

Tears. Sobbing tears.

And then consciousness hits:

I can only be here

In this moment

Experiencing the presence of pain


What bliss.


The Presence of Pain
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