I stand upon a precipice, prolific and daunting,
Staring down into the abyss below,
And all I’ve ever wanted to do is jump:
To dive into the unknown with both feet.
Long and often I’ve stared into this crevice,
And the result is always the same:
I rationalize and walk away, plunge untaken,
And wonder why I could not jump.
Perhaps I fear that it will not measure up,
That the romance is greater than reality felt.
Or, perhaps I cannot truly let myself go,
Embracing the freefall into the mysterious.
So I come, day after day, to stare into the abyss,
And I wonder what might lie ahead.
But perhaps I shall never truly experience
The reality of visions that dance in my head.
1 comment:
"Perhaps I fear that it will not measure up,
That the romance is greater than reality felt."
I think know the feeling. The fear of the "what if?" The possibility of bitter regret. Or perhaps just an unwillingness to leave behind the familiar.
Of course, to me...the wanderer is leaving behind the familiar. All that is below the fog. Up here where the air is clear--that's the mysteriously terrifying, beautifully exciting, new territory.
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