FALL
Everything moves and spirals.
I can't take my eyes off this.
I look at the rope to figure out how to place my feet so I don't fall.
I resist, I get scared, I tense up as if I could hold myself back.
To condense myself into a single piece.
My mind comes up with strategies so I can move forward.
I spread my arms to bring my self—my two parts—into balance.
I feel like a bridge.
I feel the weight, the air flowing through my fingers, the way it ruffles my hair up there.
I feel the urge to let myself go and stop resisting.
So I pull my arms toward me and wrap them around myself—so tightly!—that I become a whole “ME.”
I close my eyes and stop looking outside; I let my weight fall backward.
And so I plunge into that liberating void—one so full of nothing and so empty of everything.
My mind waits for the impact so I can find the end and stop suffering… but it never comes.
As I keep falling, I open my eyes and can see everything I'm leaving behind
And the further I fall, the smaller that image gets.
My skin recognizes a gentle caress, a whisper in my ear, an embrace that holds it all together.
Thousands of nebulae of light and heat surround me.
It's not easy to explain when you can't see with your eyes.
