The Phoenix

What started as a rattle in the chest over the last two days could no longer be ignored. It seemed to shrug off any suggestion of just going away on its own, and thus the rattle turned into something more obvious — a raw feeling on inhalation and exhalation, just at the end of each phase. 

At least that's how it began. 

For a few hours the breath carried a bit more levity home to nest in the body after each outward journey. And all was well until a glint of light caught the eye. It beckoned a second look for the source of light. The light could not be found, but instead what was left was a lone twinge in both eyes. No external source could be seen; the eye seemed to generate its own heat and light. The twinge turned into a singe, and then a sear, pinpoints at first, then smoldering enshrouded both eyes.

The burning eyes were the harbinger of fever. Before the sun had fully set it seemed to impart all its heat into the body, and that shimmering mirage on the horizon now followed everywhere with the gaze. The sickness was undeniable. It could be felt in all the muscles as well, and they seemed, more than anything, to get tense, and egg on thoughts.

Why me? How am I supposed to do all the things I had to do? I am really very busy. Too busy for this. The thoughts drifted in at first. What did I do wrong? This can’t be happening to me, why do I deserve this? Can’t this happen some other time? Why wont this just leave me alone? But they took a turn towards darkness, as if they were stoked by the fever. I have things to do, why can't this come back later? Then, they swirled around like accusations, they were bullies taunting, fully animated.

What’s happening here? Am I dying? 

Fear had been simmering when the muscles and joints began to hurt. The victimizing thoughts brought it to a crescendo. Each new thought seemed to displace some comforting resource in the psyche and, as the menagerie of exotic protective charms depleted, the fear rose, enormous in proportion. 

Cowering in one little corner, all that was left, was a cool sliver of hope, it seemed to flicker in and out of sight, out of existence really. And the terror grew larger. The sliver of hope was nowhere to be seen. Complete panic set in. It’s gone, there’s no protector left. The terror grew, all encompassing, with no hope of escape, it became beyond infinite. It pressed all other sensations, thoughts, feelings out of existence. No time, no space, just terror. 

— Terror without limit — 

The new normal. There was a sinking in the chest and stomach which accompanied this, an expected feeling of despair, homesickness, the dark void inside. The bottomless pit welled. 

But, there was a point in the chest, it seemed like a grit of sand maybe, or a seed, stuck inside this despair. It was indeterminate, maybe it was all imaginary. 

No it was undeniable. Where had this come from?

A flash.

The chest led the way through this speck. Sucked in — it all passed through this tiny grain and the terror wrung through each rib as it turned inside out. The body inverted. There was something larger. What had appeared limitless, and terrifying, no longer wore the clothes of terror. It was just there among the menagerie of things, but impossibly large, it was everything really. And it burned with joy. 

Something within it said: I was here all along. There was no straying, for there was nowhere to go. It was beautiful, and vast, it was everything. There were no questions, no answers. 

There wasn't anything else left. And yet there wasn’t anything there. 

The fever broke, 

but the fire kept burning.