Call it afterlife, our dispossession from what once entwined us in the body of a vast and complete mind for the wholes of the whole of our woven kinds when we still knew the limited range of certain words and the expansiveness of others when we felt them on a breeze. I want to mend this dream back to a time before a given good became the tear in the veil of sky, before the settled weight of a single image bowed the rooves above us against our nightly returns.
Mortal coil is a very interesting phrase. It conjures up an image where instead of a skeleton clothed with skin, I see a coil like one of those slinky toys but stretched out.
I love that image, Craig, and it sounds truly apt!