Falling

A new night brings the same familiar revelations. In one hand stand the treasures that bloom dreams across closed eyes, and in the other the heavy burden of reality counters the balance. From the middle I watch the calm storm that washes away the very tears it rains. It seems that I've long since memorized the lyrics to this confusing ballad, and now I simply mouth the words so that I remember to not forget them. And while these voices of hope and despair attempt to drown out one another, the audience playing the desperate puppet, a single whisper soars above all. What will any of this mean? What can any of this mean?

We are all falling.

To reach for the sky is to avert the eyes from the ground below.

We are all falling.

Don't close your eyes.

We are all falling.

Look down.