Imagination’s Parachute

For a split second I thought I saw my reflection in a passing breeze. After a moment, the breeze sat still. Then it spiraled into a small tornado, while somehow maintaining its stillness.

Lending my desire for perfection to humor for the clumsiness that follows. The entire journey goes by in a split second, and the other half of that second hasn’t happened yet. The reflections stutter then speed shuffle all in one motion, blinding me for just a moment.

A taste of radiation poisoning. I could smell the rain. Wonder seems to be the warm background, static at times, blue and static.

The wind at this altitude was different, magnetic amongst other things. A tilt in the compass, millions of maps flicker during the shuffle.
Gravity affects the surrounding clocks.
The arrival of a copper taste distracts me from what is going on.
Just as my imagination’s inkwell began to fill up, turbulence shook the room. My reflection in the oil slick stretched as the ink spilled out. It fell backwards, missing the engine schematics sitting on the table. The small ink bottle rolled toward the open window in front of me. I watched as it spiraled through the rain clouds. Left-over ink flew out, creating an oil spill in the second and third sky.

Sometimes I digress with description. Will you go blind with me?

Another tilt of the compass
Further away my steps make the edge.
Discovery expands the floor beneath us.
The sky appeared glassy, like the sky was its own telescope. It seemed almost linear, layered, with levels behind it, so that from where we stood we could look into another universe.

A few more interesting poems:

Image by:
1st poem written by Edna St. Vincent Millay
2nd poem written by Orlando White
Main poem written by Arron Leland
I’ll try to catch the part of me that is falling. Until then I’ll try to learn how use my wings from the butterflies that hand me the phone when you’re calling. – Arron Leland

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