I’m falling. . . no. . . ascending.
Up, up, up. Into the darkness.
No, my eyelids are just closed.
It’s not dark at all, it’s bright, wonderfully and luminously bright.
Space, as it would seem is not as lonely as they say.
It’s not devoid of life, it is life itself.
It is no more dark and void of warmth than we are.
And I find myself ascending into it’s embrace.
Stretching but never straining to hold itself together. . .
I now ascend into your grasp.
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