Floating.
Rising?
No internal gyroscope. No gravitational pull from any angle.
Concepts such as ‘height' and ‘direction’ lose all meaning.
I see glimmering specks of light, dotted all around, each amiably wandering through the emptiness.
Is it emptiness? It feels, somehow, like everything that emptiness isn’t.
An eloquent benevolence.
The specks shine colour, randomly shifting through spectrums, each radiating their mood through glowing rays.
A psychedelic collage of light.
Life.
I feel in place. At peace. I am nowhere.
Every amount of every emotion I have ever felt pump their way through my veins, merging i