Fall

We spend all our lives looking for the very thing we stub our toe on, not realizing that we werent looking close enough. Sometimes this leads us to fall so hard that we expect to land soft upon our mattress, but instead find ourselves tumbling head over heels as if we'd taken a leap of faith from a feathery cirrus. All I know is that when I seem to have caught myself, when I feel as though I've reached the end of my fall, the ground breaks and the earth collapses and I continue along my downward spiral. Life upon this rock is safe, somtimes even serene, but nothing to riding the cascades that flow as blood through my veins when in thought of my love, to which Niagara couldn't compare. If love can move mountains, then it can replace the ground beneath me with nothing at all, so that I may continue to fall until there's no pump to push these cascades through my veins any longer.