Waterfall

I wrote this book extract down many years ago - I cant remember what book it came from. It meant something to me at one point in my life so I thought I would put it in here.

When I was young, I used to sit at the base of a waterfall, on the Black River, just to watch the misty halo gleam.
The water had climbed as high as it could, and lingered in sparkling glory. Like my life, that halo was a place of eternal suspension - and how I prized that! Floating above was so much easier and cleaner.
Though the water was in fact blood, I could not see it. Those were not bones grating beneath my feet
, but rocks. No cries I heard, but wind in the trees. I couldn't see anything, except myself haloed in glory...
I took great care to sustain that halo, so that I could hide in the blinding brilliance. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't stay aloft. That brilliant, sparkling halo was cut from nothingness. It blinded me to the fact that I stood nowhere. I had nowhere to stand.
In my entire life, I had never built anything solid or lasting. If I had only known, dear god! I wish I could have seen myself for what I was.
Empty. Utterly and completely.
I did live suspended, but only for a brief moment. But when I fell, the sparkling halo became a whirl pool of tiny glinting knives. Spinning, and murderously beautiful, it cut me to pieces.
And I'm still falling. And afraid, terribly afraid, that I lived suspended for so long, there may be no bottom. Not for me.
My sentence may be to fall forever, my soul evaporating as I tumble through the emptiness.
Watching things go by. Reaching out. Never able to touch, or hold... or close my eyes.