Sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like.
It’s warm. I can feel the warmth of sun smoothly caressing my skin. Each ray gently brushing against my face, my arms, even through my jeans, into my thighs. It causes my cheeks to glow pink, my lips burn dry, and my hair to shine smooth. It captures the ever escalating heat, burning the trail of the sun onto the back of my neck all the way up to me ears, where it whispers an unbearable desire to keep going. Even behind my closed eyelids the dance of warmth continues. Pinks, oranges, and yellows creep in until it slurs to an unsettling and jarring red. Still, it continues to burn bright like the everlasting flames of an untamed fire.
A burning conflagration.
I wonder what it would feel like?
It’s cool. I feel the breath of the air rush gently past, entangling each breeze with the strands of my hair. Carrying each strand from the base of my bust, encasing it around my ever pale shoulders, and opening up to breathe around my face. Still it refuse to fall. As much as the sun shall blanket my face, the air shall let my breath free, allowing every entrapped sigh to find it’s place in the universe. It becomes the rhythm to my exhales and the life to my inhales. The oxygen becomes my clarity as the wind flutters the fabric of my clothes lightly against my skin. Traveling up, it shall expose the soft curve of my stomach to the ever distant sun, for only moments before it is to be hidden away in safety under the shadows to the very folds of my shirt. With my arms open to welcome the winds of the universe, the dance changes ever so slightly, mixing blues, greens, and purples to the ever dissipating red.
But as the breeze dies down, the flames shall reclaim it’s rightful place once again.
I wonder.
It’s loud. The echoes of the city is always drawing near. The sound of a dropping water pipe colliding with the floor escapes far beyond it’s own construction site. The cars passing through quickly, parting the ever distant air, changing its course through it’s heightening velocity. The sound of sirens pierces through my ears, escalating my heart beats to a level of normality that even I can not recognize. The engines fighting at the lights, the sharp turning gears in the high rising cranes, and even the distant planes keeps me well aware. As I try to define the sound of the leaf blower from that of the warning siren of the ambulance, the painting of the city skyline carves itself into my eyelids. Layers of oranges, on top of greens and yellows layer themselves thinly as they are sandwiched between the protruding blacks.
For moments, it escapes the dancing greens and blues, but still the flames will reclaim its prize.
I wonder, what?
It’s quiet. When the world becomes a muted symphony and the natural world shall reclaims its prize, the city disappears. My heart slows to match the melodies of the birds and the rustling of the trees. No longer distracted by the bustling life of the city, it listens. Each note carried into the sky as the wind shall bring each leaf to the ground, the feeling is captured to a ever lasting memory. The breeze dances by my ears and whisper a desire amongst the clouds, filling my mind with an intangible haze. The humming rhythm of the distances will fade ever so slowly, forcing the skylines to acknowledge not just structure, but also beauty. Each definite layer will blend into a bronzing orange of it’s past.
Even this, burning through the grayed out ashes, the amber core, shall catch the flames a new.
What it would feel like.
It’s suffocating. The air is moist, filled with the scent of iron. My chest feels heavy, but not unbearable. The heat dries out each breath, causing each inhale to be shorter than my exhale. Struggling, the gagging is stifled by the escaping cry for escape. Lead seems to course through my veins, keeping my limbs heavy. My lungs becomes gravity’s captive prisoner, forcing the walls to cave in on itself, squeezing out every last bit of air. The colors behind my eyes shift to a sightless grey as it blends to brown.
Still the flames fight to be unburied.
What would it feel like?
It’s refreshing. With every quickened inhale, my exhale leaves a path of lightness, so mesmerizing, it keeps me its captive prisoner, ignorant to its flight. Nostalgia tingles in my chest, forcing feathered breaths to part my lips. Though tied to the ground, my soul reaches far beyond the atmosphere,to the ever lasting cosmos out of sight. My heart fights to beat as one with gravity as my core strives to soar amongst the sky. Baby blue and white cloaks it way through the blending orange brown, sending lines to dash through my sight.
For moments, the flames that burn so bright are forgotten and out of sight.
Sometimes it would feel like what I wonder.
It’s beautiful. It becomes all of the above. It’s Hot. It’s Blaring. It’s Oppressive. A magical symphony of sensation, harmonized to appraise the everlasting ecstasy of life. Adrenaline rushes through each nerve, pulsating messages at rates incomprehensible to even my own mind. Signals sending heat so deep, I thought it has reached a peak within me, only to be elevated by the ever entangling breeze brushing past the surface of my skin. My heart, my soul, and all of me would be spread thin, waiting with anticipation of defiant satisfaction. A scorching need to be burned. Colors, colors, colors continue changing course before identification.
The flame seems to be fading to the light, but still the dark fire is still burning.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like?
It’s frightful. It becomes all of the below. It’s Cold. It’s Silent. It’s Liberating. A treacherous screeching, orchestrated to crave the undying deathly desire of flight. The hot heat fades as the oxygen thins, while the air rushes quickly past. The blaring bustling city fades, as the sound waves tries not to fall back. My breathing rush to keep up as my lungs burns hot and the air runs low. My heart beats so out of sync, my mind, at it most vulnerable, free of all wariness, unplugged my life from its circuit, freeing my soul to the clouds. No colors survives.
The flames are dead, the fire extinguished.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to step off.
It’s bright. So I close my eyes, at the edge of fifteen stories high. I absorb the world around me. Feeling the sun and the breeze. Hearing the people and the land. Playing with flight and the frictive fall. Understanding, both was one, and one was all. Behind my eyelids, everything strips down. Just colors, but with every passing moment, it fades into nothing. It becomes neither white, nor black. Not even after the ever fading red.
Ashes, still crumbling.
I wonder, if I step off,
Would I fly?
Or would I fall?
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