A man once lived here, but all he was was things connected. There were skin and bones here, veins and arteries, but these they are not essential perhaps to who he was. These things are gone.
His arms and legs, of course in anyone they can be lost, and yet one can live still though part of ones spirit may too go fourth. Here no longer are his limbs. These things indeed are gone.
His stomach, his heart, his lungs, more integral to how we think of ourselves. One cannot live easily without these, though they do not seem to suggest themselves as integral to the self we live, my beloved kidneys, my darlings large intestine. integral or not, these things are gone.
There were cells in each of the many organs, each one alive in it's own right! Inside molecules danced once, the ordering of life, the synthesis of one chemical to another in a great and ancient dance. these festivities have ceaced, these things are gone.
The neurons inside his brain, were they his mind? taken together, did they map his memories, his feelings, his very soul? Perhaps they might have, or perhaps there was something more here once, but these things now are gone.
Clothes, gone. Face, gone. Relations, Hobbies, Interests, all gone.. and yet, he is at this moment, in this same exact space, this same time at which all of these missing things are.
And Yet! He IS,
Right here,
whatever he could be without these things
What ever that could be
