looking at the world from the bottom of a well

lighter than air, the clouds pass from white to amber to ghoulish gray. dank darkness follows, and it’s no longer a show.

if you listen closely, each drop of water whistles past the ears with a unique pitch, culminating in the inevitable splash below. at first the sound is practically silent. hours later it is louder than my futile screams.

just when I thought the shivering would never stop, I grow strangely still. the stars seem motionless as well, but when I focus on one in particular I can follow it out of view after only a few minutes.

you were there too, light years beyond the dimmest star. you didn’t say a word.