It is difficult for one to behold a person once he knows the internal form. The human body is so wholly different when vacated by the soul; it does not demand more respect, or less, but it is akin to a different entity. There is a profound honor and privilege inherent with dissection of the deceased, and much to be learned from the process. The human anatomy is both utterly fascinating and evoking of tremulousness, an intricate layering of functional and physiologically-efficient forms.
The act of dissection is not unlike discovering an untouched piece of nature. It is perfectly crafted, divinely inspired, and beautifully drawn. But perhaps it is not the right of any man to tarry in such a place; it was not his, nor will it ever be. He is simply to experience, and to share his newfound vision with those who have not seen, or felt.
And yet, the superficial becomes as glass, and it is a burden to bear. The coursing vessels, sculpted musculature, and wispy fascia all show through. The cursed perception knows nothing of the flesh and plagues the pupil eternally. Still, it is a price rightly paid and dutifully extracted – the power to have knowledge of within.