It's impoverishing, this coming alive.
Nerves shiver and jump as life floods back into tissues long atrophied with disbelief. One wonders if the reanimation - or is it truly animation for the first time? - is as visible as it feels. Do these shuddering, hesitant breaths echo as loudly as they do in my ears?
The shadows that etch out the corners where the Light has not yet reached whisper softly, insidiously, that the process is far too slow. That even with life, breath and nerves it'll never be more than dead flesh dancing.
But that's not truth, not really, and the whispers start to waft away on a half-caught, newly found zephyr wind.
