On Falling: A Poem

Some of us never fall

for fear, for pride, for hate.

Are we monsters

those of us that do?

Is falling just another

perception of rising up?

Any way you look at it,

it's terrible.

Wonder and awe are dumbfounded

blinded by an infinite darkness.

Where is light?

Where do sparks fly?

How does a flame catch

and hold? Where is

the warmth?

A face, a word, a touch

ripped apart, sight spinning

into complete unsound.

So where do we begin?

It is our longing for an ending

that binds us.

It is our longing

for one another

that makes us whole.