The Fall

I am falling down

Down, as many do 

Down, as we all do sometimes.

I see only a blur, as I fall.

And in it a brown rope,

The one that promises the top of the mountain,

The sunshine and swaying lilacs that await up there 

(I don’t remember seeing the top of the mountain,

I don't remember being there,

But I must have fallen from there at some point,

I must have seem them before I started falling)

I am falling Down 

Down

Down,

And the rope is inches away from me, waiting

With an outstretched hand almost desperate

To remind me that there is still a chance 

To see (again, perhaps) the top of the mountain, 

The one with a view of all the stars in the sky. 

And yet I still fall

Down

Down, (I want the blur to stop, I am getting a headache)

Down

And then the rope starts to change,

It’s starting to wither, I can tell,

The promise in it is fading.

It is frayed and dirty,

As if someone had pulled at it,

Grasped at it, 

Begged for it,

Had finally caught it,

But had slipped and come away with only a piece of frayed hope

In their hands as they fell

Down

Down 

Down, I am falling down

And now I feel the panic rising and 

Now I feel the ground should be getting close

( I am blind to the ground and to the mountain. All I see is the rope and the blur)

And finally I reach,

Grasp,

Beg

For the rope.

And then the blur stills.