Caressing your body,
sliding through your hair.
Or maybe you don't have hair.
You're the one falling, after all.
Does the wind roar in your ears?
Maybe you're deaf.
Does it take your breath in passing,
or were you holding it in,
determined to keep it to yourself?
Or might you sing
all the way down.
Are you one who falls slower,
In this fall, do you face up,
Perhaps you look straight ahead,
tears stripped from your eyes,
looking directly where you're going.
Or perhaps you're blind.
Do you turn your back on it, then?
Does the rushing air cradle you
while you stare at where you came from?
And how do you fall, exactly?
Maybe you're flailing for your life,
flapping your wings uselessly.
Or you could gracefully lie in listless acceptance,
a calm and careless picture of placidity
as you plummet ever faster
with no mind to the world flying by.
Maybe you pose.
Is it a swan dive?
Hands held out before you?
Or maybe at your sides,
while you stand upside-down.
Have you done a flip?
are you putting that much effort in
to your daring descent,
hoping you never land?
Maybe you're so afraid of getting there,
that you shut your eyes the whole way.
Maybe you take in as much as you can
of the wonderful world around you,
not caring when it comes to an end.
Do you hope to have spectators?
Maybe just for the fall,
not the whole landing part.
But they're all falling too,
right there with you.
Do you join hands?
Or do you keep them to yourself?
Did you have fun along the way?
Are you having fun right now?
I would hope so.
There's still plenty of fun left to be had
here in the air.
Whatever you do, it's your fall.
Diving or flipping,
sailing or flailing,
any way you go.
Yet I do wonder...
Will you make it worth the jump?