Poetry

With the bright moon that is tonight missing
as if it has suddenly strayed somewhere
the stars dimmed out, the air is rushing

while almost like a machine I am falling
from very high while breathing pure oxygen,
an exploding lightning bolt makes my ears sing

while the altimeter I am watching;
with each enemy guard, guard-tower primed
against penetration, in I am fluttering,

at terminal velocity it’s terrifying,
while life comes to a standstill around me
but that moment is but very fleeting

before a device is reminding
that the rushing ground is almost too near
and the jerking parachute is opening;

right after the equipment bag I am landing,
snatching off the chute, cocking the weapon,
with the bright moon that is tonight missing.