Canyon

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  • Emotional

    Canyon

    Standing at the edge of a cliff,
    looking down,
    barely able to see the bottom,
    wondering what would happen
    if I jumped.
    I feel for a safety rope and
    find none.
    Sweat beads out on my forehead,
    I'm scared,
    Do I jump?
    Do I take that chance that
    I'll survive?
    Or do I go look for that
    rope and never
    give myself fully.
    Within that gaping maw
    of a canyon lies
    so many possibilities
    and so many opportunities.
    But there is no safety rope
    or net.
    And I'm scared.
    I look around to see
    if anyone is looking
    and I find myself alone.
    So I lift my head to the sky
    and scream until I can't scream
    anymore.
    I want to take that plunge
    but there is so much uncertainty there.
    Do I risk it all...again?
    For a chance that might
    evaporate like the wind?
    Or do I grab onto that rope
    and slowly lower myself in?
    Can I do both?
    Lower myself in with the rope
    and when I see what's there,
    decide whether or not to cut it
    and fall the rest of the way?
    Tears stream down my face,
    I have had this feeling before,
    though never this intense,
    this is more than anything.
    It is overwhelming, all consuming
    I lift my face to the sky once more
    and let the wind flow over me,
    soothing my shattered nerves.
    I hear the lone cry of a wolf in the
    distance and I understand.
    This is a risk I must take,
    but I must be cautious.
    So I grab that rope
    and with tears still staining
    my cheeks,
    I begin my decent.
    Praying that I'll find something
    down there worth falling
    for.
    Worth risking it all for.
    Maybe I am a fool,
    to chance it all like this.
    But how can I turn my back to it?
    This canyon calls to me,
    it is in my blood,
    in my soul.
    So I must heed it's call,
    and see what I find.

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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    DruidWolf’s Poems (11)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Wind 5
    Night of the Wolf 2
    Careless Words 2
    Young Man I Never Knew 3
    The Storm 0
    Mysterious Smile 0
    Untitled 0
    Eyes of a Stranger 2
    Canyon 0
    My Love 0
    Desert 0