A drip of water. A tiny bead. In itself, a tiny universe.
Swirling.
The first step. A gigantic step into the suicide of eternity. Falling. Falling. Swirling and falling. What life. What wonderful life.
Now hold it there, in time. Look now into it. That swirling ocean that exists but in a dot. That victim of gravity. A world in itself, drawn into the brunt hostilities of a greater mass.
Within that globe, all that is necessary for life to exist. Falling. Suicide.
Inglobate in its death it falls now. Held in the fingers that molds it into the world.
Released into the hands of time and gravity. Its death now is cretain. Falling. Falling. Look.
A shattering thunder of silence as it hits: Impact.
A phoenix of absurdity it lies and is again what is was. Lifeless in its Genesis.
Waves of nothing roar in the emptiness. Looking now. Looking. See.
Now again, row upon row, an assembly line of worlds, run down the Fallopian tube. Squeezing out between the broken seal, unto death.
Easing to the edge, as if to secure its grip, it slips, fumbles and falls.
Suicide?