Aloft in the battered plane,
The turbulence vibrates all around me,
Even as the fuel gauge creeps toward "E."
Everything had seemed so solid, so secure,
I'd built it with such great care;
The cockpit made of my childhood fears,
Wings of hysteria,
I'd fueled it with my own inability to cope.
And now the end is near,
Reality rapidly approaches,
And I know that I could no longer avoid a decision.
I know that I must, somehow, choose.
I finger my parachute hesitantly,
Try to think rationally,
Though my mind is screaming with fear of the unknown.
The engine coughs and the plane dips;
I step out as though for a Sunday stroll.
I am in free fall,
A pebble kicked off the edge of heaven by some careless angel.
In the distance, my plane kisses the earth in an explosion.
Shall I pull the ripcord,
And chance landing in a strange land, for whatever fate offers?
Or shall I simply continue the fall, let my fate be decided by the hard earth?
I can hear nothing save the beating of my heart.
I take a deep and painful breath
And pull the ripcord.

exact date unknown - probably early 1980s

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