The view from above
The golden light penetrates from above through the painted cerulean and sapphire, barely missing my eyelashes. The swirling pockets of air giddily float around me, searching for their rightful home, unencumbered. My gaze is locked in the same dizzying motion as they speed from the deep azure into the gleaning turquoise and burst into the brilliant celeste. My stinging eyes yearn. Above the radiance of the blue, a multitude of figures beckon me. Numerous ones moving at their own pleasure, gliding and soaring, mocking Icarus; a myriad of petals fluttering and hovering, their silent exclamations echoing, unaware and unconcerned of what lies beneath; and countless motions rippling through, as if taunting me. My cumbersome limbs ache. Stretched out on the shore as they attempt to drown the exhilarated scampering of careless and whimsical children, they drag me further. The muffled noises of the oblivious pierce through, deafening me. Innocent giggles and chuckles turn into scoffs and jeers as my head empties, leaving room for nothing but resentment. My clogged ears burn. Only the beaming luminescence from above, now tinted in shades of shell-pink and nearly scarlet, attempts to lull me, its warmth nearly touching my fingertips. My chest is overflowing and my extremities are frigid, the once dazzling glow now dulled - overtaken by the navy that’s circled and entrapped me. My unresponsive body now barrels leisurely towards the seabed. My mind is given an abundance of time to wonder what the view is like from above. Whether the last breath escaping my lungs was noted; or if the silhouette of my figure was descried; or if anyone could catch my silent screams. Oh, how I crave to see the view from above.