Falling
Out of a bucket.
I landed on my side.
And I realized how stupid I'd become.
I know.
It isn't proper to say so.
But I will.
Who am I?
Why was I sent here?
In asking these questions,
I became
The very thing
That I despise.
But falling
Out of a bucket
Changes things.
It makes you see
The world
In a different way.
When you're all curled up
At the bottom
In the dim, bromby light
You contemplate little
Other than yourself.
And then you realize
As you fall
Just how small
You really are.
And just how grand
And just how tall
The world around you
Must be
To make your fall so long.
I am so small.
I understand that I am tiny.
And the only thing
You come to want
Is a soft landing.
So where were you looking before?
Were you looking at hearts of stone?
Were you looking at the Sevenfold Spirit?
Where were you hiding?
As you pick up speed
And fly
Through the air
In a downward tumble.
Your insides give out.
You are one with the air.
You are surrendered to your circumstances.
You have faith in the ground,
That it will catch you
Safely or not.
And you don't think about yourself anymore.
Just the fall.
You don't hear your heart beating
So loud in that bucket.
You just think about tumbling out into the open air
Dead or alive.
You will arrive on the ground.
And as you tumble out,
On a cobble, or brick, or carpet floor,
You are reborn.
You have emerged.
I tumbled into a alley way.
And found people dressed in rags
Far more important than me.
And I left the poison of myself
At the bottom of that bucket,
And myself lost, I am found.
