Cliff

The buzzing stops, everything stops. There is a soft sigh as my partner scratches her neck on the bed next to me. Everything is still. This is a rare moment for me. The constant static buzzing through my brain has went to bed, time to rest. I am completely calm and still, calm and still. It's as if the whole world is a painting work in progress. Each gust of air from the fan above is a brush stroke to one marvelous painting of my life. Will there be a series of paintings? Will it suddenly change genres? Will I choose poetry as my new medium? Who knows. These days I'm surrounded by constant static and ups and even more ups. Each day just keeps going up. I'm high on a cliff right now looking over the edge, not sure if I'm supposed to keep climbing or jump off the edge. The urge to jump is severe, but look at all the progress I've made. I'm halfway to the top why would I ever want to jump? Something clicks in my head that I should but I sit down on the ledge and sigh. Not today.

Reviews

[J.A. Marquez]

Interesting thought. I like the symbolism of climbing. It is a perfect metaphor the build up in life, good or bad. And life is so unpredictable, will you jump or won't you is perhaps one of the most important questions you ask yourself. Carrying on is a conscious decision that must be made through each trial we face. I like that instead of climbing further or jumping you simply choose to sit.