Falling in 4D

I wasn’t drowning.
Down was just a suggestion.

Time bent first—
a soft buckle behind the eyes—
my body followed, searching for some feeling

My past passed by me,
geography more than memory,
a crooked terrain stitched through worlds.

Velocity without wind.
Weight without mass.
Fear stretched thin enough to read through.

Something ahead of me was waiting,
but it wasn’t a destination.
It was a version.

I understood the mistake too late:
you don’t fall through space—
you fall through yourself,
and everything else rushes in to fill the shape you leave behind.