“It’s just a momentary sensation – open my eyes and it’s gone. Still, it’s an overwhelming experience. Being able to float in the air.” Haruki Murakami
Falling Past Weightless, surrendered, spent feather drifting down the layers and depths, down past dry grief whose invitation to linger pulls at me, that I might stay and savour its bitter taste, its cloying texture, towards the indulgences of distraction where shadow caresses the wound, yet even now the wind eddies my steady resolve and onward I fall, past windows and doors, no snares enough for me to enter, no place to rest my world-weary bones, except the lightness on which I float. Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®️
parallax 
Ooh, I love the use of metaphor in this one!
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Thank you Liz, was quite pleased with this one, worked on the metaphor for a coupe of days.
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You’re welcome, Paul.
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Sounds like a nice dream but a dream still
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Yes, quite dream like, so relaxed too, thank you Cheryl
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It is very appealing to imagine that we can drift past difficulties. Maybe sometimes, we can! Lovely poem, Paul! ❤
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Yes, I sometimes wonder that we can, sigh, thank you Cheryl
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Beautiful
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Many thanks
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