Supernova 52

Supernova 52
Don Julian Winslow

First the self is lost,
Drowned in the initial wave of pleasure.
The wave recedes, leaving behind a body stripped,
Reduced to a skeleton of naked ganglia, nerve endings pulsating,
Alive with electricity.
The second wave soon follows -- a new burst of energy,
Infusing still-tingling neural pathways,
Firing them to a level of super-awareness,
Driving a flood of new sensations to the same impossible heights.
But this sheer intensity of feelings cannot be sustained and so
The synapses begin to falter, then retreat --
Circuit breakers shutting themselves down
To avoid dangerous overload.
One after the other, the tiny gates seek to close before the
Onrush of an even greater wave of excruciating pleasure.

But it's too late; the power of the force is unstoppable.
The third wave crashes over the writhing body and
The myriad of sensations focus, narrow, form up
To take on sharper definition,
Shaping themselves into a single piercing thrill
That wells up from the very core.
The massive surge of power infuses every fiber
With rippling energy that threatens to erupt
From the extremities: fingertips, toes,
Radiating like laser beams, liquid fire
That can no longer be contained in the singing body.

With one brilliant burst of ecstasy
The inevitable explosion occurs, shattering the star
Into a million glittering pieces.
The newly released life force burns with intense luminosity --
One pristine moment
Of pure unadulterated pleasure,
Before it begins to fade and is lost.

The body collapses back upon itself.
Tremors of life ripple through slack limbs,
Echoes of faint aftershocks that continue
Till the final lapse into the quietude of the little death.