I step up to the edge, the breeze blowing my hair.
I close my eyes and I can see it.
My feet leave the ground as my wings catch the wind.
I’m flying.
But, when I open my eyes, I’m not soaring
and my feet are still on solid ground.
What if I fall?
I can’t risk it, that pain.
I look around and see others fearlessly facing the plunge,
but I remain frozen in place.
Scared.
All I can think is, “What if I fall? What if I fall?”
It’s then, in the midst of my frantic thoughts,
That I hear a still, small voice say,
“Yes, but what if you fly?”

In my own little world fireflies stay in open jars
Flowers paint on their colors for the next day,
And the moon laughs while it walks away.
The trees speak of ancient scars,
The creek brings up lost trinkets from afar,
And the animals cry for freedom,
But freedom is not free.