diving

I stand alone at the cliff top, looking over the edge which seems so soon, nearer than the horizon. I stand alone, a solitary figure in the midst of forest pouring down into the ocean. I hear the water falling down below me, the sound of anguish crashing upon rocks and eroding the earth. I can do nothing but stand, the excuse of my form existing enough to push me further, bending into nature as trees bend in the wind. The pressure of my body upon the surface of the cliff is enough to keep me standing, but it holds no weight whatsoever on any other part of the landscape. My motion fades out and becomes inconsequential as it moves further into the forest. There is no one else here, I stand alone in purity of existance, nothing more. Nothing more important beyond where my footstep lands and the air I exhale. Nature will absolve me in a way history could not. Every time I fall I don't make an imprint in the ground, only the ground makes a print in me. What I can see is only a small piece of what is actually here, only I cannot open my eyes wide enough. Not wide enough to take in the depth of the ocean which towers below me. Deep down where everything is so plain to see. I bend further and further over the edge until the wind begins to submerge my body in the water below. I no longer have a presence upon the land, as I sink deeper and deeper into weightlessness.  The deafening sound of silence underwater bursts my ear drums and they float outwards beyond the horizon. I need not for them now, there is nothing to hear below besides the echoes of thoughts throughout my head. Even those begin to sound softer and less important, as what once held truth on the surface seems to no longer have consequence. I fall even deeper but it seems I am no longer falling. Light can no longer penetrate the depths which I have reached. I am rising closer and closer to the bottom of everything. Beyond the edge of human form, there lies nothing in the horizon. Only the present form.