Flying Rock

March 3, 2011
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I looked down upon the bottom of the earth.
It appeared endless, as if I were to jump and never hit the ground, just floating above everything.
My mind felt blurry and jumbled up like a weed in a flower patch, not knowing what to do, just sitting there wondering why it was here and how to get out.
Unfortunately, I had no escape from my fate.
I was a prisoner stuck in this flying jail, who’s only way out was to jump and hope everything went according to plan.
No, I can’t do this; I’m nauseous and feel like a baby bird about to find out if it’ll fly or sink.
My gut told me I’d sink like a Curt Schilling curveball, but I had to do it.
Everyone keeps telling me it’s going to be fine but in reality they’re sending a wounded rabbit to battle a ferocious wolf.
What exactly I was actually battling I did not know, for this was an enemy that I’d never been exposed to.
At last I hear the words that will surely bring me to my demise, yet I feel freed of a certain burden.
The words came out slowly and forced.
I prayed, I prepared, and I leapt.
The once mysterious, endless sky and ground I saw was becoming real and profound like a deep Sherlock Holmes mystery.
While in flight I noticed a mother bird and its baby and realized that I would be fine after all.
The baby was flying, not sinking, just like me.
Although anyone else would’ve thought I was sinking, in my eyes I was not.
I was floating on a lone cloud that no one else could touch.





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