1 Jun 2014

Soaring

I feel nothing beneath or above me, except the rush of incoming air.

The indiscernible blocks of buildings underneath me look nothing more than grey chunks with glitter on them.

The sky on top of me shows nothing more than wisps of grey against a black infinite sheet.

I fear nothing. I don't fight it. I don't attempt to understand it.

This isn't meant to be a mission. Nor is it meant to be an artistic stunt.

This just is.

The wind continues to flutter along my horizontal body, lending support to my flight.

There is no danger. There is no final goal.

Just the journey.

The cool breeze, the fresh air...

I close my eyes to embrace it all...





I sigh as I see myself back on the bed.