2 Hawks

Two bodies are sighted up above. 2 hawks hovering like kites. Way up in the skies. Serene. Peace. And then the thermals change. In an instant, they drop. Vertically, they drive. Projectiles. Missiles. Screaming towards the ground. And in their high velocity fall, they begin to twirl, to roll, barreling from side to side.

And what looks like suicide now becomes a dance, as the two bodies seperate horizontally, letting the air underneath catapult them high into the sky again. All the while twirling. In an instant, they are flailing back at each other again, at terminal velocities. And before the great collision occurs, they intertwine, spinning furiously through empty space. Flickering speed.

At the same time this aerial belt unfurls, two people, a man and a woman, who are running, and have been running for a long, long, long, long time, fall into their final sprint. Straight ahead, they leap off of the cliff, and into empty blue space. The abyss. Free falling. Bodies outstretched. Oh what bliss. As they tumble toward oblivian.

At that exact time people all over the world are seen jumping off of the structures of old beliefs. Jobs they despise. Limitations. Leaping off of 9-5. Jumping into the unkown. Into nothingness. Falling. Falling. Surrendering to the speed. The velocity. The vectors. And gravity. Of imagination.

And the ones who choose to remain behind, look with gaping awe and bated breath. At all the free falling people in the sky.