These are my White Lines

These are my White Lines

A Poem by The Proletarian

In his final moments, man is granted the systems of the universe.

These are my white lines, bordering my descent like a vertical airstrip, my pompous and arrogant obituary, carved into the cliff's edge.
I am smeared into the white markings and burnt by the small candles lining the north shore. The glow from the Sickness is my skin, and my gaze the moonlight.
In my heart, the cave's stalagtites are awash in candlelight, a shrine to Gods I never believed in.
And the singing of the ocean beckons, cementing the reality of my progression with the celebrations of the dark abyss.
The water gets deeper, the island further and farther away.
Thistles and wildflowers will continue to grow on my corpse. Fertilized, the huts and shacks on my skin will pulse with the wild bacteria, drawn to the glory of my Sickness, nourished by the knowledge that I have chiselled as white lines into the cliffside.
Like melted butter over too much bread, it is stretched over my own existance. The space of thirty-two square miles and fourteen-billion years of youth are folded on each other to the intersection of two points. They fall beside me, their trail carving parallel lines into the cliff rock, glowing with the Sickness.
It glitters in the moonlight, and is surveyed in the passing universe as a single bright point, in the eyes of Mars a spectacle, and to my heirs as diagrams of electronic power-curcuits cluttering their tables.
Even above my ashes the denizens of my corpse grow in spires and neon lights. In a moment, and under a telescope, man-made mountains rise and silver rockets dot the skies, glowing with the Sickness.
These are my white lines, bordering my descent like a vertical airstrip, my pompous and arrogant obituary. Every centimeter a billion stars, every moment a billion years, carved into the cliff's edge.

© 2012 The Proletarian

Author's Note

The Proletarian
A story derived from the observations made in Food for Thought.If you feel the need for some clarity (without spoiling the message) feel free to check out a note on those observations in the link:

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register


you are a very good story writer, like the detail and imagery. Awesome job!

Posted 8 Years Ago

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


1 Review
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on February 18, 2012
Last Updated on August 7, 2012
Tags: Short Story, Enlightenment, Philosophy, Suicide, Universe, Science Fiction


The Proletarian
The Proletarian

Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Money Money

A Chapter by The Proletarian