The Jump

He fears what he does not know, a wise voice said

Fists of white knuckles, holding tight, dreading

For all under his wrath, there would be no ending

This dejected soul, this petulant soul, was already dead.

But I did not go with the flock

Trusting was never in my being

I broke the chains upon a block

Sheets of prose aiding in my fleeing .

When it started I can't really tell

At first a warning, then foreboding

Waiting for a judgment always guilty

The weight of judgement off-loading.

Life is short, like a flower, like the rain

It does not belong to the paranoid or insane

The flower shrivels the rain drizzles down and fizzles

My conscience now clean, I walk away.  

The jump was hard, into the thin cold air

Away from the soul condemned to despair

Alleviated my heart pounds with delight

Avoiding years of malice and fights.

Was it worth it, it doesn't matter

Moving forward, I strain with confidence and fear

Pitying the poor ones trapped in the latter

No longer petulant, I reach for a beer.  

Life has no straight roads

My landlord is the sun

The more we reach for quicksilver

The more we come undone.  

Onward.  

Author's Note

By Jack Worthington, 7/01/13