Spinning Sky
Falling 12,500 feet from the ground the Cessna 172 Skyhalk leaves Milo, he sees Earth below him. It appears to be insignificant and pointless. He wonders there and then if there is any true point to life and whether all existence is birth falling to death. He ponders if the womb is the blue sky and death is but the blue ocean. Blue to blue. There was comfort in that thought.
Another 1,000 feet down, the distance passed in seconds. Milo span his body to look up into the clouds. He had imagined being this far up into the world he might be able to see the universe, or better yet, some stars. He was disappointed he could not. He was unaware that he could have always seen the universe from where ever he was. If he had only known the universe was all encompassing.
However, he did not.
Milo was now 10,000 feet from the ground. His body spun 1440 degrees but he did not feel nauseous. He had no control of his life and he was embracing this gift.
8,000 feet were left. There was uncertainty in his fate. Milo was certain he would die but whether it would be the shock of the ocean, the dirt of the earth, or if he would be caught by the cliff side rocks he would have to wait. It would be the last reveal of his life.
The air brought water into Milo's eyes he closed them shut pushing the tears across his face. He was contempt. The tears felt ironic 6,000 feet from impact. He had not cried in so long and now he had they were removed from sadness.
4,000 feet and Milo finally felt regret. Had he apologised for everything he had done wrong? Had he remembered to tell his loved ones he cared? Had he tried hard enough to live to his potential?
A pain shot through his heart.
The tears weren't ironic at 2,000 feet, they were blinding and full of salt. He was no longer saying goodbye to his life but to everything that occupied it. Inanimate objects seemed to hold importance. His old chair would be thrown away, no one would take care of his water coloured landscape picture. It would hold no sentiment for anyone. His corpse apathetic at their decay.
The land beneath Milo appeared, it was clear he would die on the cliff side. 1,000 feet and it would be all over. Milo desperately wanted a parachute.
At 500 feet Milo thanked God for every good moment he ever had and resented his bitterness to those who were more fortunate in his life. He promised himself that if he ever had another chance he would spend half of his life helping others. He would be kind.
At 100 feet the sounds of the waves were fierce. Milo found them tranquil. He hoped his death would not upset anyone. He hoped he wouldn't be a nuisance.
Milo broke his back upon the cliff and died before he hit the water. His body was taken by the waves and beaten across the cliffs.
He had no regrets.
Another 1,000 feet down, the distance passed in seconds. Milo span his body to look up into the clouds. He had imagined being this far up into the world he might be able to see the universe, or better yet, some stars. He was disappointed he could not. He was unaware that he could have always seen the universe from where ever he was. If he had only known the universe was all encompassing.
However, he did not.
Milo was now 10,000 feet from the ground. His body spun 1440 degrees but he did not feel nauseous. He had no control of his life and he was embracing this gift.
8,000 feet were left. There was uncertainty in his fate. Milo was certain he would die but whether it would be the shock of the ocean, the dirt of the earth, or if he would be caught by the cliff side rocks he would have to wait. It would be the last reveal of his life.
The air brought water into Milo's eyes he closed them shut pushing the tears across his face. He was contempt. The tears felt ironic 6,000 feet from impact. He had not cried in so long and now he had they were removed from sadness.
4,000 feet and Milo finally felt regret. Had he apologised for everything he had done wrong? Had he remembered to tell his loved ones he cared? Had he tried hard enough to live to his potential?
A pain shot through his heart.
The tears weren't ironic at 2,000 feet, they were blinding and full of salt. He was no longer saying goodbye to his life but to everything that occupied it. Inanimate objects seemed to hold importance. His old chair would be thrown away, no one would take care of his water coloured landscape picture. It would hold no sentiment for anyone. His corpse apathetic at their decay.
The land beneath Milo appeared, it was clear he would die on the cliff side. 1,000 feet and it would be all over. Milo desperately wanted a parachute.
At 500 feet Milo thanked God for every good moment he ever had and resented his bitterness to those who were more fortunate in his life. He promised himself that if he ever had another chance he would spend half of his life helping others. He would be kind.
At 100 feet the sounds of the waves were fierce. Milo found them tranquil. He hoped his death would not upset anyone. He hoped he wouldn't be a nuisance.
Milo broke his back upon the cliff and died before he hit the water. His body was taken by the waves and beaten across the cliffs.
He had no regrets.
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