Flying and Falling

Flying and Falling

Slow the motion of the butterfly’s wings:
he falls between each beat.
Sometimes you must tell yourself
you are on the side of angels,
must ignore why people do what they do,
why you do what you do.
Because if you become your obsession,
you become your undoing.

But then,
how to weep with shame:
a directionless storm?
How to see the treasure of the sun
in those too few moments
when the world makes a rainbow?
Your storm will come,
no matter the ice you use to freeze,
to insulate, to turn reality to dream.

Sometimes we fall between
each beat of our fluttering hearts.
Sometimes regret becomes a prison
of our own making.
Sometimes our freedom must
be of our own making as well.

Forget the halos supposedly on your side.
Angels can be the evil that sets fire
to your pouring rain,
turning sense to steam.
Sometimes we must storm inside.
Sometimes we must allow the world
to strip us of selflessness.
Sometimes we must become our obsession
to prevent our undoing.
You must ask why.

For the sun is a treasure,
there for you in the moments
of the rainbow,
of the eclipse,
of the storm.
There to reveal –
when you choose to understand –
the essential balance
between falling and flying.