I am never alone when I am with you
Robin Wyatt Dunn
I am never alone, turning in the fury of my satellite, now airborne, hurtling with my will, into the bone of the city; of my body.

Who can make me, earn, or betray, this burn?
- -
I could say many things;  but I begin where most stories end. Where most stories say that words have become impossible, mine circle around the vanishing instincts of words, to see, like the after-patterns of explosions, in micro-dimensions, the circles aflame onto tiny detector fields, of those things which remain apparent. The ghosts of ghosts.

I have been bonded to a machine from thirty thousand meters in the air in the air; but I still have my body.

Though I am no longer conventionally human, I suspect there may not be any such thing at all, to begin with.

When I am born, will I still be who I am?

And will my robot architects, those who performed the changes to this aspect of my conscious awareness, will they see what I have seen?

The beauty of the world, wrought into the space between the darkness of the sky and the nightmare of the earth.

I understand now what it was;  the turning of a bolt in a lock. An unlocking: into the world we are coming to be.

I am a fire burning: from my light, it may be I will illuminate for you the way out, from our new conquerors. Our new liberators.

All conquests are liberations--all liberations conquests--but more: they transmit something beyond this world. It is no surprise the architects found us. As though we had been wanting it.

Still I am awake. The physical connections between myself and my orbital do not exist in this plane of reality; they are subliminal. Underneath the real, and subatomic, or perhaps more than real. Super-real.

Of course, I am one of the first. I am terrified. I am sorry. Change is not easy.

If you want something enough, even the stars will move.

As I moved for Francine.

When she escaped from the Earth.

Everything I tell you is true, but what does it matter?

The story is truer than the true, truer than either of my bodies, truer than the Earth, or its new overlords.

Fire me, full of you, over these fabulous years, and wind me, around your arm, to beat these centuries beneath our feet, under our souls, rhyming with infinity, and our own stars, burning in our eyes, like jewels.

Some day I will see Francine again.

Some day I will see you too.

First published: November 2016
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