With the force of a whisper, my feet leave the ground.
Panic grips me as I flail to regain my grasp.
Dislodged from familiarity, I seek anything to hold onto.
Trajectories of debris pass above, below, in countless directions.
Futility in searching for control drives my path.
Exhaustion forces desperation to give way to resignation.
Fear loses its hold with a whimper.
Observation and curiosity enter my cleared mind.
Like a soothing voice, tender touch, or unwavering faith, appreciation emerges.
Guided out of disorientation, my feet find a new foundation, a new perspective.
I was not lost.
I was in a beautiful drift.