12-09-2014, 12:11 AM
Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes.
- Lao Tzu
"Let's go sky diving."
Morning sunshine cutting through the apartment. Kiara curled around a bar stool; coffee cup in hand, inspiration resting open in the form of Mile-Hi Skydiving, the best Denver has to offer.
She does this, periodically. When the itch gets under her skin. When it's too much and it's been cold, in Denver. Snowing and sedate and the pace of the world is driving her crazy. He used to call her an adrenaline junkie, Patrick, in a teasing way. She never paid it much attention but she wonders sometimes, if that's not it, in part.
The bone deep need to press deeper; suck the yoke right out of an experience. Thread the needle through the finest sliver and run. Run. Run. Just keep right on running. If you moved fast enough not even the swiftest hounds of memory could keep up.
Once it had been the sting of a tattoo; branding to her back and it had been enough; a white hot shock to her system like waking up without an interlude. Just there. Just aware. She keeps doing things, of course. Buying seventeen books [they came in anthologies, so it seemed economical] and stacking them in the corner of her room, never fully unpacking because it presented too much certainty and who needed a landline; life preservers had never been her style and it's not enough.
She needs the chase. The weather is changing and she's always been one to pursue the wind. The road untraveled is a temptress, after all, never satisfied and Kiara's never been one to settle. Constant momentum like a lullaby to her senses; tempers that precocious spirit.
And she
just
jumps
When it comes right down to it. Miles above the rockies and all that space she throws herself out into it; hurtling around and around; plummeting; arms stretched out; wind howling in her ears and as far as her eye can see ... room, space, uncharted lands and stranger's waters. Waits to pull the chute like it's a dare; heart beating like a wild bird; throwing itself against her ribcage and it's there, on the precipice that she yanks it.
The knife's edge, you see. Life and death and total awareness of her own body.
Jerks herself back from the edge and floats; soars; lands with a crash and lays, laughing; bruised and sore and it's yes, it's discovery and it's enough.
For now.
- Lao Tzu
"Let's go sky diving."
Morning sunshine cutting through the apartment. Kiara curled around a bar stool; coffee cup in hand, inspiration resting open in the form of Mile-Hi Skydiving, the best Denver has to offer.
She does this, periodically. When the itch gets under her skin. When it's too much and it's been cold, in Denver. Snowing and sedate and the pace of the world is driving her crazy. He used to call her an adrenaline junkie, Patrick, in a teasing way. She never paid it much attention but she wonders sometimes, if that's not it, in part.
The bone deep need to press deeper; suck the yoke right out of an experience. Thread the needle through the finest sliver and run. Run. Run. Just keep right on running. If you moved fast enough not even the swiftest hounds of memory could keep up.
Once it had been the sting of a tattoo; branding to her back and it had been enough; a white hot shock to her system like waking up without an interlude. Just there. Just aware. She keeps doing things, of course. Buying seventeen books [they came in anthologies, so it seemed economical] and stacking them in the corner of her room, never fully unpacking because it presented too much certainty and who needed a landline; life preservers had never been her style and it's not enough.
She needs the chase. The weather is changing and she's always been one to pursue the wind. The road untraveled is a temptress, after all, never satisfied and Kiara's never been one to settle. Constant momentum like a lullaby to her senses; tempers that precocious spirit.
And she
just
jumps
When it comes right down to it. Miles above the rockies and all that space she throws herself out into it; hurtling around and around; plummeting; arms stretched out; wind howling in her ears and as far as her eye can see ... room, space, uncharted lands and stranger's waters. Waits to pull the chute like it's a dare; heart beating like a wild bird; throwing itself against her ribcage and it's there, on the precipice that she yanks it.
The knife's edge, you see. Life and death and total awareness of her own body.
Jerks herself back from the edge and floats; soars; lands with a crash and lays, laughing; bruised and sore and it's yes, it's discovery and it's enough.
For now.