I look up

....the canvas opens. The droning sound of the engines slowly vanishes as I'm shrouded in increasing darkness. The wind whizzes past, cut by my new umbellical cords. Without them life is short.
I realise up is the past, some fading lights in the increasing distance. Every cold breath more out of reach. Not that it was much of a home...more a steel tube, light in red and green. Uncomfortable...but it started out well...somewhere in a field. Aluminium aloy heated in a late summer's sun and a sky full of promise, life and challenge. How we marvelled at the sight before entering. Our metallic bird larger than life, invincible, our own epic saga and we'd only written our first line.
But that's in the past now....we took our stories on board and kicked them out, somewhere halfway through the first chapter. And there they are, floating left and right in silence...in crimson darkness. Going down.
I look down but all I see are my boots. I expected a light, a vague shimmer of earth, something terrestrial to ground me, a target, a landing zone, meaning....But I guess not. I wonder again why I jumped, we jumped...what intention we had...what mission, but I can't remember. I know others jumped too, left and right, soaring down from our big armada, but sofar no trees, no fields, no nervewrecking but exhilarating kick in the heels.
I wonder how long I've been afloat. It started out as seconds, an adrenaline rush, but I guess it must be days, ...or longer. There is no difference when I shut my eyes. I wonder if it matters, if not landing would change anything. No one is expecting us...not anymore. Quite frankly, what on earth is the use.
So....acceptance. I've given in to this...I rest at the absence of a past and I scorn the absence of a future. Part of me even relishes in this feeling with its undertones of freedom, so....Don't pity me...for I have accepted my liminal state...
...just don't think I do not have a story to tell.