I'm glass and I'm tumbling through space. Not in the sense of a lack of something, in the sense of planets and stars and beauty.
Anyway, I'm glass and I'm tumbling through space, and below me, miles below me, I can see the Earth.
And I fall through the atmosphere, the unimaginable cold of nothingness being tempered with intolerable heat as I burn up. But I don't change, I remain. Glass.
Now I'm in the sky, still falling, and a panic builds in my legs and works its way up to my head and down my arms, but at the same time I'm panicking, I'm unafraid because I know I'm going to shatter, and its the knowing that makes it okay. It feels like I'm falling ever so slowly too, I don't know why though.
I hit the ground and I smash into a million tiny pieces and there's not even a dent in the ground where I've fallen but it's okay because this is what I hear as my glass head, and my glass ears, and my glass brain becomes nothing more than dust. Sharp little snowflakes in the air, blowing across a field which has taken a life that was only ever glass to begin with and there's no sign anything ever happened here and I think I'm fine with that, I really do so be happy for me.