8 December 2012

I go higher, higher, flying on wings of pure, golden flames. I weave through and over cloudscapes, over tiny cities with little people moving about their little business, like ants. I effortlessly fly even further up, swift as a burning arrow. Everything is bright here, lit by a shining sun, giving of glares of light that illuminate the clouds around me. The air is meant to be thinner this high, but to me it feels rich, like fine wine in my throat.

Higher.

Now I am past even the highest clouds. I'm where I belong up here, in the vaults of what seems like heaven itself. So bright. I'm touching the sky.

overskillTouching The Sky • Opuss № I