Riding high and above the waves on extemporaneous notions of an afterlife, Michael brought one foot forward and let it dangle over the roof’s edge. He knew that he did not have much time before the other would follow. Some patients below could see the figure atop the building fromthe courtyard. They started to rile with anticipation, their irate murmurings incomprehensible. Agroundskeeper looked up to see what justified the commotion. Michael could hear the shoutsfrom below. He almost toppled when the wind picked up again, but recovered and kept one footdangling with the other anchored to the roof. The hoots came louder now, almost calling himtoward them like sirens guiding ships in the night. From below it was impossible to make out theface of the balancing figurine now poised in suspended descent. Another gust came. He closedhis eyes, felt the levity manifesting, and felt the complete freedom inside. He could feel himselfgliding down like the sail of a weightless craft, forever plunging into the great beyond, belowwhere mermaids sing and summon their lovers home, further down into the depths of somecomplacent serenity, further down where thoughts float away and never return and the lightnessis so grand that there is no other worldly place imaginable, for there is no world left to beconsidered. There is only the soul, free from the prison of the body, and it is released to travelanother millennium through time, carrying with it the progress and industry gathered from themind previously occupied. The time it spans inconceivable. He let his other foot go from the roofand felt himself completely let go.
Matthew Chase Stroud, Paths of Young Men
jumping, letting-go, young-man