A Life Lived Too Long

Cut, cut.
Away with this rotted flesh that has long since
lost all the nerves that mark a man as alive.
Gone is the warmth and flush of blood in veins.
All that remains are bones wrapped in shrink-wrap,
forced by some thing unseen to mime the
actions they were once accustomed to.
There is no thought left, no consciousness;
only vague whispers of the past reside here.

Cut, cut.
Remove the old growth to let something new
and unhaggard, something worthy, take its place.
Set fire to the forest so that the seeds take root.
Beneath this plaster they call skin lies the
propensity of rebirth. That is what I seek.
A rejuvenation of Body, and from this
Mind, and thus Spirit, as the three
cannot exist independently.

Cut, cut.
Remove what once was, and let what should be take its place.