And there he was, yes, sitting on a man-hole cover. Feet clinched, fingers electrified. He sat with his mouth gaping wide, head tilted back.
Fetal and ready to birth. Ready to be birthed.
“Feel the world beneath,” Paul screamed, “feel the heat rush through the skin.” He looked like a hood ornament.
Darkness. Lightness. Being-inside out. Returning to his view, he was now dancing upon the rim of the man-hole. His bare-feet tucked against the iron, they crossed in minuscule triangles. Toes curled in circles.
If you are living according to the flesh, you must die; but if by the Spirit you are putting to death the deeds of the body, you will live.
“By the Spirit,” Paul fumbled, “…kills weakness.” Now in a head-stand. His head in the center of the circle, arms and feet spread like radi.
The man-hole, I noticed, began to jiggle. Perhaps, under the heat? Light began to appear. At first, small dots lined the circular region Paul flayed himself upon. Then with their increase, they washed each other out.
“Watch, watch closely,” Paul tattered, “I know you see what I see!” And so engulfed Paul’s gymnasium, a light so bright that his body shed fat. With all of Paul’s might, I saw a raging Phoenix, break forth.
The freedom of Paul was inscribed in the circle of light.