Darkness covers the ground like the setting sun. I close my eyes, and the breaths come a bit easier. Slower. I feel myself slipping, falling. But as I gradually let go, I begin to float.
The black is thick. It overshadows me like a curtain, as a blanket of night shrouds my shoulders. It feels sweet. Soothing.
The pain and aches dissipate into the void of darkness. I feel myself following. Only a hand, a finger, hold me here. It’s a voice. Pleading and angry. I don’t recognize it. I can’t understand what it says, yet it holds me here. Why? Why would it hold me here? Here with the pain…
Hands pull on me and whisper soothing lulls and sweet nothings. Their touch feels like salve to my burns as they pull me further into the night.
Words still ring. Then buzz. They slur, and the familiarity of them fades. But the sweet voices become clearer. Almost like music pulling me into the void. I want to go. The burns of the words holding me here no longer sting.
The threads split and tear until the final one snaps, and I fly.
The black is quiet and sleepy. Still waters resting below a storm. The blinding brightness envelops the night as time and space fade away.
I can’t imagine anything even almost as beautiful as falling into death.