I stand upon a precipice,
so high up in the sky.

I cannot bear to take a leap,
but so dearly wish to fly.

I've climbed the mountain countless times,
without a change of heart.

I know the way to flap my wings,
but fear to do my part.

I often stand there pondering,
locked solid in my doubt.

Memories of my great climbs
begin to dance about.

I see myself down on the ground,
and looking in the air.

A sudden longing in my heart,
to be with the clouds up there.

I'd see the mountain, and with a laugh,
I'd say "I've found my path!"

With a sprightly hop I'd start to climb,
without a slight glance back.

I'd reach the top without a thought,
then become with my fear stiff.

With a sigh, I'd turn around,
and amble down the cliff.

So many times I'd scaled my foe,
and every time I've failed.

Never once have I leaped off,
and in the cool wind sailed.

Weary and worn, I came today,
to ogle at the sky.

If I'd never soar in it,
I'm the only reason why.

I stand upon a precipice,
so shall I sing or weep?

I stand upon a precipice,
shall I leave, or shall I leap?