Fallen Reality

There once existed a man who fell through the sky.
In the sky alone did he exist, falling all his days.
Born in the sky, there, too, he died.
No land, nor water, nor planet, nor fire did he ever perceive.
Never a woman, nor man, nor child, nor beast did he know.
The infinite abyss, directionless, and untamed, his only natural companion.


He fell timelessly, all senses of past, present, and future non-existent.
His existence suspended, as his body, between all and nothing.
Sentenced at conception only to be.


As he fell, the forces that pulled him stretched his consciousness.
His mind rapidly becoming an abyss greater than his surroundings.


He lived, then, not in the sky, but within an internal world,
an immeasurable reality. A reality of countless others, or,
if whim raised its brow, a single reality of ever-shifting forms.


As he fell, he existed only within his existence, 
one unconceivable to any other.
And for the entirety of his existence he did fall.
Living within himself, he became and did become.
All within were truths without blemish.


All of his existence was always complete.