Falling From the Plane At 10,000 Ft.

It's another universe out there: a snow-scape of valleys and hills with a marshmallow floor you could almost jog on, as solid-seeming as the world we've just left. Drifting, drifting, like a snowflake, slow-motion in a space where there is no time, no missing element in the free fall in which you find souls in transition who must stall a bit. Death was so quick, the sorrowing, long. It's a slow ascent before your downward drop because all around us is that incredible blue we aspire to, as we reach for the sun, and He who formed it from fire.