By Martin Falatic
Written 1999-01-20
Revised 1999-01-20

He stepped out of his shoes, carefully setting them aside. He stood up on the cold, bare metal on a cool September afternoon, reflecting on life.

A past, filled with love…
A future, filled with pain.

Silent breezes blew past him, the water called his name. A heavy heart, stung by greater fears, in facing everything, faced nothing. Fears that replaced love with a stealthy numbness; fears that found purchase in a heart devoid of hope.
Only confused pain remained.

One step, to end…
One more, to begin again.

Release.

So easy, to be free of pain, in the perfect protection of escape.

And thus, he began to fly, hurtling through a veil of tears into the Void.

He flew unsteadily, the heavy wings of the lost bearing his weight in a slow, curving dive. Panic replaced now by peace, he fell slowly, free. The sun hung low in the distance, and in that moment between moments, he remembered the love he had forsaken for fear. Leaping in fear of pain possible, he felt a deep, icy stab of regret, for in this act, this flight from the Now, all doors were closed from within… shutting out any hope that lay beyond. Not simply a selfish act, but one born of a lack of faith. The vulnerable flame of love, replaced by the darkness of fearful isolation.

In the moment before he hit the unforgiving water, he begged life for a second chance. But life, spurned in extrema, paid no heed, and death closed the last silent door.