The morning mist coils about my feet as
the leash tugs us forward, drawn by
four little paws, two droopy ears, and a
permanently flickering tail. A most magnificent
sunrise was beginning to blossom across the
heavenly firmament. Rosy smoke spreading
red and gold through the air, when the
orb falls. Not a slow descent, but a collapse.
Light is ripped from my corneæa, a
whimper educed from the purple
ink in front of us and the leash
lies flat, empty. Clutching my arm, her
fear pours into me, stronger than the surrounding
bleak and black. And she too is gone, following the splintering
of wood and rock as the surround blows
away from me.
I cannot feel it anymore. The constant pull.
I believe it to be
once called
                                                                                                           gravity
because I am free now
I am good morning