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Into the White
Tell them I am falling into pure light skies,
Because traces of white drift past my eyes.
The slow ascent begins to speed to a rapid pace,
A constant assault of white clouds to my face.
As my ascent starts to come to a screeching halt,
Did I die? Is this a dream? Is it my fault?
I ask myself, "What did I do to deserve this?"
A crowd gathers below, people whom I will truly miss.
As I ponder my thoughts, I seem to slowly descend,
"So, this must be a dream... When shall it end?"
As I once again touch ground,
I think a better sense of myself has been found.
All thanks to this massively confusing plight,
Of soaring through the clouds, into the white.