THE BEAUTY OF A FALL

THE BEAUTY OF A FALL

To fall is to be enamored

by vivid colors.


The greasy gore of a red bruise;

Deep enough to keep your eyes

Open for twin pitfalls.

Surface enough to fade away

As fast as it came.


The bluish blot of your hurt;

Spilling sporadically into the

Fibers of hard earth.

Like ink released from a bottle,

It cannot be gathered back to where it began.

But memory's clothe can wipe it away,

Leaving behind a trace for you

To use as you may.


The blackish blur of your ego;

The clutter in your mind,

Clogging your path to reason,

Stifling you from heeding,

The true cause of the fall.


A fall awaits you at every step

But its beauty lies in its repetition,

Its eagerness to take you on a circular journey

Till you strip away from the fear it brings,

Or the ego it leaves behind,

And listen to the lessons it tells.

Only then can you be truly free

From the shackles of a fall.

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