In free fall
On my back
Gently float
Mist of black
Tiny sparks
Memories
Gust of wind
Tragedies
Sense of self
Slips away
Shed this skin
Dust and clay
A cold sweat
Agonized
Peaceful bliss
Realized
It calls out
My name known
Who am I
Bad seed sown
Then it sings
Angels choir
Still I fall
Though higher
Embraced fate
Fathomed fear
Clinging faith
Landing near
©S. Austin Vincoski
