The Ride
I hold myself away from the adventure
of life. It is a roller coaster. I am poised
at the drop. Here I am at my highest
height gazing at maybe the lowest
low. I resist the ride, hold my breath,
squeeze my eyes shut. I will drop
anyway. I will fall. And I will click
my way back up, dragging and
dragged back to the tippiest top.
There, I will see how far there is to fall
again. And, again, I will look
at the peaks pointing
like so many fingers. Every Hell
is another promised trip to Heaven.
Every fall is a new chance
to climb. And every climb,
there is me, scaling
that mountain. Strong, strong,
stronger.
image from pixabay.com
What a beautiful analogy of life. The heights are amazing... we look out at our surroundings... we see others riding their own rides, experiencing their own heights, depths, curves, discomforts. But we also see beyond. We see stable things, fixed joys. A lake... the mountains... the sea... these are among the gifts that our heights provide us. And then the terror. It seems unavoidable. Reality blurs, our stomach may be sick... we may plunge into darkness, or toward tunnels that seem too small. But the fall ends, and the momentum, the energy we gained as a result of our downward fall brings us to joyous playful loops and corkscrews and new heights. We have learned, we have endured, we have survived. Your posts embody such energy and feeling and depth. Thank you for sharing your views.