Floating

Fasted hands waiver in the decay.

Bruised purple pools beneath it's skin.

The expanse lifts me from my waist to witness it’s fantastical horror.

I wither in it’s heights.

Forever in the process of rebirth, as meaty limbs wax and wane on bone.

I am suspended there in the belly of creation, peering out.

Curled in the powerful helplessness of soul.

Can it be that I have feet for the ground?

Will the solidness ever appear for them to touch down and be rooted?

I am flailing in the dark of this moment.

A billowy birth from the chaotic funnel of the universe.

Its lighted eyes only glimpsed between whirls.

How can we be flying and falling all at once?