204: The Sky is Falling

Someone somewhere said that the sky is falling. Tilting my head back, I look up. The clouds have split into a quilt ripped at the seams. Through the cracks I see a darkening sky. Wind pushes through my linen clothes, chilling me to the bone. I rub my arms. If the sky is falling, then so are we. The wind is the fall. The building is slipping under my feet, crashing into a bottomless abyss that swirls and draws us into lightyears. We stand in the outskirts of something too significant to see. We do not exist. The sky continues to fall, and so do we.

---

Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

---

Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.