The Myth of Falling and That of Flying

I’ve stood on the edge

Held my breath and tried

Closed my eyes and cried

Willed myself to fall or fly

But alas, up was too cloudy

And I couldn’t look down

Even on the worst of days

The weights that weigh

Twisting maze and fires that blaze

Couldn’t coax me into looking

Kept my focus on the neutral

While the better ones and all their fun

Making strides, getting things done

Those days were mostly sun, but

I still had doubts about those clouds

So, it became regular business

Of my many precipice visits

Questioning life and the laws of physics

Should I go or should I know

Why I’m stuck here on the ground

You’d think by now, an answer found

Instead, I hear a terrible, hollow, empty sound

I call it the silence of stillness

My brain is willing, but my body waits

Maybe today I’ll find my fate

Not too early, and not too late

The realization that keeps me guessing

Somewhere I lost my motivation

Seen weathered cracks in my foundation

Now I’m so in need of recalibration

It’s my journey of reinvention

But it’s my secret, my cross to bear

Ask me straight, but I won’t share

Not depressed, and yes, I care

Much appreciation for those who know

I don’t need a crutch, nor a helping hand

The ground is solid where I stand

Just working on a different plan

It’s nothing noble, not even new

Take a step, and then another

Always looking for the uppers

Slowly rising as I discover

The myth of falling and that of flying

Our place in life is in our mind

It’s not a place that one can climb

When we seek, then we shall find

Standing on the edge is a metaphor

Latitude given while  we grieve

Things we’ve lost or had to leave

Different than we once believed

Change is change; it’s like a wave

We can ride the thunder

Give up and slip under

Or go radical and face the wonder

Ups and downs, are all about climbing

Author’s Note

If you enjoyed, The Myth of Falling and That of Flying, and would like to read more from this author, check out his page on this site. In life, we are all presented with moments of tremendous change; moments that redefine us completely. But when those moments present themselves, we often find ourselves paralyzed with fear, afraid to look up and afraid to look down. Only after processing that moment of happening, do we realize that the paralysis was a necessary part of the grieving process. It was an act of self-preservation by our physical body, to keep our emotional body from doing something that, in the long run, wouldn’t serve our greatest and highest good.

R.J. Schwartz also owns and writes all the content on The Gypsy Thread, a website dedicated to all things strange, unique, abstract, pagan, and outside of the mainstream



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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

One thought on “The Myth of Falling and That of Flying

  • January 1, 2023 at 8:53 PM

    I read a poem not long ago by Robert Frost. Your poem made me think of it:
    Nature’s first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf’s a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf,
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day
    Nothing gold can stay.
    – By Robert Frost

    I always like your poetry, Ralph. It is emotive and has deep thoughts.


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