It’s good that the engines were blocking off sounds,
That I was alone with my worries and shame.
Forgetting my biner, completely dumbfound,
I stood by the exit door frame.

My instructor did help, with a knee to my end,
To get over this sheepishness stunt.
I confused his indifferent cussing and rant
For our common “Fear nothing!” command.

And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And left my cheekbones burning,
With iciness of shaving blades -
The rising air currents.

They pumped all sounds back in me
With every breath recurring -
These easy-going, always free,
The rising air currents.

I was caught in their skillful and grippy embrace;
They now push me with ease any way that they want!
I am eager to do every step of this dance,
Every one of their senseless stunts.

If there is a deep meaning to fall from the planes,
I will learn later on, and for now...
The horizon is leaning towards my own face,
And all clouds rush away to the ground.

And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And left my cheekbones scalded
With iciness of shaving blades -
The rising air currents.

The pumped all blood back into me -
Invisible, yet certain,
Inflexible and cruelsome,
The rising air currents.

But I ripped off a ring from the harness with force,
As a pin in a battle or a shirt in the heat.
It was an accidental, impromptu free fall,
That has lasted just eighteen heartbeats.

...Yes, today I look ugly, with humps on both sides,
With salvation of silk cloth in each of the humps.
And I’m goal oriented, and I’m truly in love
With the high-altitude, low-opening jumps!

And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And leave my cheekbones burning
With iciness of shaving blades -
The rising air currents.

They’re piercing deep inside of me
With every breath recurring -
These easy-going, always free,
The rising air currents.

I am flying and rhomboids, triangles, and blocks
Now transform into rivers, meadows, and lakes.
But the air around thickens, hardens... a curse!
It’s my enemy, the parachute’s slave.

And the vessel already begins its descent,
After spitting me down with a flump.
I will be on the ground long before my plane lands,
That’s a free-fall low opening jump.

And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And leave my cheekbones burning
With chilly, edgeless shaving blades -
The rising air currents.

I have containers on my back
To meet them well in person:
This wicked wacky, fleeting pack -
The rising air currents.

A pioneering jump from the stratosphere’s shallows:
On the signal “Let’s go!” I stepped off to the side,
On a quest to gain on the invisible shadows
Of the faceless chimera - I dive!

I will cut through the dark of the cotton wool sea,
Even if the conditions are spoiled.
The free falling is not unreservedly free,
All because we don’t fall in the void.

And they cut-off my screams and yells,
And leave my cheekbones burning
With iciness of shaving blades:
The rising air currents.

I have containers on my back
To meet them well in person:
Impeccable and shooting straight,
The rising air currents.

Yet the wind would leak through, its soft talk is indecent:
“Leave this ring where it is, revelation will come...”
At the three hundred meters - Enough of this whisper!
Wind is lying, it’s spinning a yarn!

Lines are yanking me up, and the canopy bangs,
As if nothing had happened en route.
There’s no freedom in falling from heights, but instead
There’s a freedom to open your chute!

My cheekbone skin feels cool tonight,
My eyes are pried wide open
They carry much about mankind -
The moving air currents!

I’m starring up with fondness
On distant stars that lonely,
I drink the horizontal
And slow-moving currents.