I’m falling into the abyss.
The deep, dark, deadly abyss where the only way out is to keep on falling.
You can’t stop, you can’t turn around, you can only fall… fall… fall.
Whatever preventative measures you put into place have crumbled like a wall that has surrounded a garden for too long,
And without that unwavering wall in place, the sun reaches the flowers, and warms their blood, and spurs on their growth.
Then when the sun has done her work, the rain comes to refresh the newly awakened flowers.
Now all the flowers; the white roses and red roses and dahlias and daisies and even the bright yellow dandelions -who are only flowers in the eyes of children- are stronger and brighter and more beautiful, each with its own distinct lambience.
That’s what the abyss is like,
Black as pitch, reflecting no light, and yet you begin to feel as though it could.
The abyss; the silent, dark pit which you’ve tried to avoid comes across with a new kind of radiance.
Every fear you’ve felt of the unknown is settled, every concern slips away.
Every song your soul has ever composed begins playing all at once and it is so hauntingly beautiful that you wish it would ever stop.
The endless darkness is replaced piece by piece by shining, iridescent butterflies,
And suddenly you’re not falling through emptiness,
You’re falling through the sky.
And you realize it’s hopeless, but by hopeless you mean full of hope,
And you hope that it is endless but in this world you’ve seen it end,
So you make your own world where nothing good,
Ever,
Ever,
Has to end.
