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Robert L. Martin

Roller Coaster

With all its strength and assurance,
its mechanical intelligence,
it took a hold of me with its iron arms
and took me high and beyond,
slowly escalating up to the crest.
All I saw was the sky, my sky, my ceiling,
my boundaries, my universe
outside their universe, a drop of water
inside their ocean,
an embryo inside their womb.
As I ascended to the unknown,
the thrill of danger ran up and down my spine.
I could feel the busy air climbing in my lungs.
I could feel its breath on my face.
I could hear the hooves of the Pegasus
pounding the quiet air, the banter of the spirits,
a vision of death before my death.
 
The crest was a prerequisite to another fear,
a satisfaction but another journey of terror.
I was a rag doll being tossed about
by an iron beast, a controlling authority,
a strength out muscling my strength.
I was falling through the sky
as I swallowed my pounding heart.
The ground loomed bigger than before
as I fell through the unmerciful air
toward my grave that awaited me.
Death dressed in black appeared before me.
My silencing was looming fast
until another iron arm took me away
and sent me on another journey.
Was it an iron God that rescued me?
Was it the hereafter in a dream
or the truth of life leading into the next?
The roller coaster ride was the ride of my life.

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